#Sacred heat of Jesus

[portraitsofsaints]

Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque

1647-1690

Feast Day: October 16 (New), October 17 (Trad)

Patronage: those suffering from polio, devotees of the Sacred Heart, loss of parents

A nun of the Visitation order, St. Margaret Mary was most notably known for her visions of Our Lord and devotion to His Sacred Heart.

"And He [Christ] showed me that it was His great desire of being loved by men and of withdrawing them from the path of ruin that made Him form the design of manifesting His Heart to men, with all the treasures of love, of mercy, of grace, of sanctification and salvation which it contains, in order that those who desire to render Him and procure Him all the honour and love possible, might themselves be abundantly enriched with those divine treasures of which His heart is the source." — from Revelations of Our Lord to St. Mary Margaret Alacoque

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)

[lay-z]

tw: fem!Reader; penetrative sex; oral; cussing; edging; explicit GIF

John MacTavish makes it his sacred mission to make you cum on his dick.

There is no secret between you and him. You'd laid your cards open from the beginning, even before you started dating: "Hey, I can't come with penetrative sex, so don't feel bad when I don't climax like that, okay? I'll still enjoy having sex with you, Johnny."

Sure, Johnny eats you out like a rabid dog, fingerfucks your cunt until your essence dribbles down his hairy wrist, until he's made you orgasm several times, turning you all dumb and pliant, but still

There's an itch in the back of his brain; poking his male pride and agitating his competitive side.

He wants to make you cum on his cock, wants to feel your pussy walls squeeze and flutter around him, milking his balls dry. However, it's more than a want, it's a need. The urgent need to make you feel good, make you his, and his only.

And, Steamin' Jesus, if he can defuse a bloody bomb, he can defuse you!

So, he goes on to study you like some mad scientist, your mind, your body; learns it better than you know yourself, and figures out what turns you on, what off. When are you horniest? What position that he manhandles you in unravels you the most?

He almost becomes obsessed with it, the need to get you off with his cock, and you notice, of course you do. Johnny isn't subtle about it, and goes as far as trying to coax your pussy, tries to talk her through it.

"C'mon, m'bonnie cunt," he coos against your clit before dragging his flat tongue over it, two thick fingers stretching your hole open, pumping lazily. "Fairest of 'em all... ye gonna cum f'me tonight, eh?" He peppers kisses along your slick, glistening folds while you breathe harder, unable to squirm on the mattress in his tight grip.

"Gonna be a good girl and take my cock, let him make ye feel s'good, aye? S'ye 'n him."

"Johnny "

"Shhh, hen," he hushes you gently, glancing up from between your thighs. "Think am finally makin' progress here."

Meanwhile, your legs are shaking, your mind spinning with pleasure and arousal while Johnny continues to edge you for another hour before finally sinking his fat cock inside your sensitive cunt.

He keeps you in missionary. Your legs hiked high up around his waist while he grinds his hips slowly and deeply, building up the pleasure in your core as he talks you through it this time, making sure you're relaxed and focused on him and the feeling of his cock massaging your sopping, gummy walls.

And when he does manage to make you come on his cock, buried deep inside your cunt like two pieces of an unique puzzle, he's sure it's the most beautiful sight and the most wonderful sounds he's ever witnessed, and now it just needs to become a new routine for him.

"Alrighty, hen," he pants against your neck, biting down at your pulse point briefly and tasting your sweat; rough hands roaming over your heated skin while you shudder and mewl underneath him. "Now ye gonna give me one more, aye?"

[keeryhours]

new year’s magic - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You and Eddie meet up at Steve’s annual New Year’s party

Warnings:

Drinking, kissing

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N:

Happy New Year to all of you!! I hope 2025 is the best yet! This is just a short little oneshot I wrote to celebrate. I hope you like it! And thank you again @punkrockmlchael for my banner ily!

—

Steve Harrington’s New Year’s party was in full swing, living up to its reputation for another year. The music was loud, the alcohol was flowing, and it was nearing midnight.

You stood awkwardly to the side, a mixed drink in a red solo cup clutched tightly in your hand. This wasn’t really your scene, but Steve insisted on your presence. You had rolled your eyes when he first brought it up, but as you always did when it came to Steve, you eventually gave in.

Now he had effectively abandoned you, which you couldn’t really blame him for because it was his party after all. But you weren’t close with these people, you didn’t know how to talk to them. You were debating heading out early, before the countdown even happened - because who was going to kiss you at midnight? No one yet again, that’s who.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your lower back. You jumped, some of your drink splashing over the rim of your cup and onto your dress. “Shit!”

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You looked up and immediately softened when you saw those brown doe eyes looking back down at you, wild curls framing his smiling face.

“It’s okay, it’s not that bad,” you said, face flushing red as you reached for some paper towels on the kitchen counter.

“Here, let me help you,” Eddie said, quickly taking the paper towels from your hands and dabbing at your dress with them. Thankfully not much had spilled - your outfit certainly wasn’t ruined. You stood there as Eddie wiped at the fabric over your boobs for an awkwardly long time. Once he was satisfied, he shoved the wet towels into the trash can. “Good as new!”

You looked down at your little black dress - you couldn’t tell anything had been spilled on it at all. You smiled back up at Eddie. “Thanks. My hero.”

Eddie chuckled, a hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I can qualify as your hero when I was the one who scared you in the first place.”

“Oh, no,” you said, not wanting your friend to feel bad. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to come talk to me.”

Eddie looked around at the crowd. “Not exactly your scene, eh?”

“Definitely not,” you admitted, taking a sip of your drink. “I didn’t think it was yours, either.”

Eddie shrugged, giving you a sheepish grin. “It’s not. But Harrington wouldn’t leave me alone about it, and I figured, could be fun?”

“Are you having fun?” You asked, eyebrows raised at him over the rim of your cup.

“I am now that I’m talking to you,” he smiled. Your cheeks heated even more, looking away from him and into the contents of your drink.

“I’m not exactly the most fun person at this party,” you mumbled. Honestly, you still weren’t even sure how you and Steve Harrington had become friends in the first place. He never even noticed you all through high school, but when you started working at Family Video with him and your best friend Robin (who insisted he was a changed man and wasn’t King Steve anymore), you just hit it off. You had been close friends ever since.

You met Eddie when your close friend insisted you meet her new boyfriend, Gareth, and his D&D buddies. You were shy and dreaded meeting new people, but you were also into fantasy and games, so you agreed.

Eddie became one of your best friends immediately. He invited you into Hellfire - something that was sacred and rare, as your friend and Gareth filled you in - and you became a regular in their campaigns. Eddie was even in the process of helping you come up with your own campaign to DM for the club, which again, was sacred and rare and shocked the rest of the group to their core.

But Eddie had a soft spot for you.

Maybe there was something else there, too.

You had had a crush on Eddie since you first met him. How could you not? He was just cool, liked fantasy, liked D&D, loved metal music and could play guitar (which was so, so hot). He even played guitar for you a few times, which had your heart melting.

Just like it was now with him standing so close to you.

“It’s time for the countdown!” Steve called loudly from wherever he was, and the whole party cheered. Everyone shuffled into the living room where the large TV was on. You and Eddie stayed back in the corner, away from most of the chaos.

The Times Square ball filled the screen. As it began its descent, the whole party cheered along with the countdown.

“10! 9!”

Eddie shuffled a little closer to you, but you were sure it was just because of the crowd.

“8! 7!”

You took the last sip of your drink, sitting it on the table to the side of you. You’d clean it up later.

“6! 5!”

You felt Eddie place a hand on your hip. It sent an electrical current through your body, making you shiver. His calloused fingertips were pressed against the bare skin peeking through your sheer dress. He smelled like beer and cheap cologne. It was nice.

“4! 3!”

Eddie turned you to face him with his hands on your hips. You looked up at him wide eyed. Your body was humming with excitement and nerves as you looked into his eyes, searching for what he was planning behind that smirk.

“2!”

He pulled your body flush against his. You gasped.

“1! Happy New Year!”

Eddie leaned down and pressed his lips against yours as cheers and noise makers went off around the room. You think your heart might have stopped for a moment. His lips captured yours with a confidence you didn’t fully expect from him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as your knees went weak and you shared the tender yet heated kiss. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck as he pressed his body impossibly closer to yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you happily let him in.

“Get a room, you two!” Steve yelled jokingly, laughing from across the room. ��But also, about time!”

Eddie pulled away and you knew you were red as a tomato with how hard you were blushing. Eddie pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he grinned down at you. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Me too,” you admitted, which made Eddie chuckle.

“You know, they say that whatever you’re doing when the clock strikes midnight, that’s what you’ll be doing all year.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in, placing a kiss to your cheek before his lips reached your ear. “Be my girlfriend, maybe? So we can do this all year?”

You giggled, the biggest smile covering your whole face. “I would love that.”

Steve erupted into cheers and claps again, waving his noisemaker in the air. “That’s what I love to see! Magic always happens at the Harrington New Year’s party!”

[waywardsummoner46]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | Three | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 2,024

「✦」 A/N - Sorry it took so long to get this one out, it is shorter than usual but after a couple of weeks I'll be able to write more frequently :)

「✦」 TAGLIST - @yandere-stories - @adorawritesalot

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four • five •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

You hadn’t said a word since you left Seonghwa’s house.

  The entire experience had left a queasy feeling in your stomach and regardless of how immaculately styled your hair was, it seemed nothing could quell your unease. Ji-Ah had noticed your unusual silence when departing the old house but hadn’t caused a scene until after Seonghwa had waved you off.

  “I hope you have a good night, (Y/N).” He’d grinned at you, a glint in his eyes that seemed completely alien to his distraught visage earlier. You’d suppressed a shudder at his wink, feeling distinctly off until Seonghwa’s manor was but a speck in the rear view mirror.

  Ji-Ah turned to you, hair curled to frame her face and layers only accentuating her features. “Okay-”   “Seonghwa was so handsome, wasn’t he?” At Jiwon’s exclamation, both you and your soon-to-be interrogator winced violently.

  “Jesus fuck, Jiwon-ah. Tone down the volume a little bit.”

  A mildly sheepish look crossed her face but the heat in her eyes didn’t diminish. A headache began to form at your temples and you were growing increasingly agitated at her persistence, “You can’t deny it. He was like an angel! I’ve never seen anyone look like that before.”

  Regrettably, you whispered, “I have.” Perhaps a little too loudly, for Jiwon’s starstruck eyes grew brighter and the fire in Ji-Ah’s eyes was replaced by a mischievous twinkle.

  “Who-?”

  “Why, you little-” 

  Yeosang and Yunho’s faces flashed in your mind, a private smile gracing your lips. That feeling of lingering anxiety also melted away. 

  How strange. 

  You weren’t ready to discuss that so readily after your emotional roller coaster so… “What? I didn’t say anything,” and just like that the car erupted into madness.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“Hey, ladies. What can I get ya?”

  After ordering your drinks, the three of you scoped out a table tucked into a corner but still with a good view of the stage. 

  There were still residual nerves fluttering about inside your chest; this nightclub in particular was a last minute decision on Jiwon’s behalf. The club you regulared was full, according to the bouncers, so, determined not to have a failed birthday, your two friends had dragged your half-hearted and highly reluctant self to ‘Siren’s Den’. 

  Apparently, this nightclub had only recently been built and the owners were as elusive as the sun in a lightning storm.

   In other words, good luck finding them. 

  Despite your mild discomfort at being in such an unfamiliar environment on top of (being so far out of your comfort zone) the unexpected turn of events… the nightclub wasn’t half bad. 

  The stage was very evidently the main attraction; expensive-looking stage lights were attached to the ceiling and what you assumed were smoke machines of some kind were concealed by the intricate, crimson velvet curtains on the stage. In the darkish lighting of the club, you couldn’t really make out the floor of the stage but it was evident that it was top quality just from the taintless reflection of what little lighting illuminated the space.

  And… were those fire machines?

  “It isn’t too bad here, is it?” Ji-Ah commented passively, taking a sip of her rum and coke. She grimaced immediately at it, staring at it as though it had personally wronged her.

  You laughed at her expense. “Not too bad, huh?”

  “Har har, you’re hilarious,” she said, sticking her tongue out at you. “It’s not even that it tastes bad, there’s just something about it I don’t like.”

  Silence for all of two seconds swept over the table before Jiwon grabbed her glass of whatever cocktail she’d decided, picked it up and chugged the entire thing down in one go. She let out the most ungodly shriek you’d ever heard and all you could do was stare with a dumb half-smile on your face. 

  Because just what on earth was that.

  “I don’t know why you two are looking at me like that, I displayed perfectly acceptable behaviour for a nightcl- oh, Wooyoung! Hi!” 

  Following her gaze with a raised eyebrow you turned to look behind you, 

jaw dropped at the sight of a young man practically waltzing up to your table - he didn’t look like he’d just be hovering either. The table was circular so the only way for him to sit down was either by Jiwon or by… oh, no.

  Luckily for you, he sat down quite energetically next to Jiwon who looked completely thrilled to see whoever this Wooyoung guy was. So thrilled that, instead of simply moving over, she grabbed his smooth cheeks and brought him in for a kiss. (A kiss is generous, it looked more like they were trying to eat each others’ faces off.) A quick glance at Ji-Ah showed she shared similar sentiments to you. 

  “Jiwon, care to introduce us to your… uh, friend?” Ji-Ah questioned, a disapproving twinge to her facial features. 

  You’d like to know the answer to that yourself. Jiwon had always been the more extroverted and flirtatious of the three of you, but never had she treated someone with so much passion. To your knowledge, there had never been any further progression than incredibly suggestive flirtation so to see her basically eating this man’s face off was, to say the least, a bit of a shock. 

  Ultimately, it was Wooyoung who pulled away first, looking down at Jiwon with a devilish grin on his face. That wasn’t entirely inaccurate either; you’d compare him to the devil, dangerous because he was so beautiful. In return, she looked up through dazed eyes and you thought you saw something a black mist or pigment fading from her eyes. 

  Your eyes lingered on her own for a little while longer, convinced you’d seen something.

  She noticed you staring, “Everything okay, (Y/N)-ah? You’re looking at me like you want to kill me.” 

  Giving her what you hoped was a natural smile, you assured her lightly that you were fine, simply mildly shocked. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She then turns to Wooyoung with a glint in her eyes that made every hair on your body stand on edge, for a reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “So, this,” she gestures to him. “Is Wooyoung.” 

  A faint itch began at your jugular and you raised an absentminded hand to scratch at it.  

  “Yeah, Wooyoung… it’s, uh, nice to meet you?” Ji-Ah phrased it as a question, probably still recovering from the emotional whiplash of the entire day.

  Wooyoung turned to Ji-Ah and gave her a polite bow from across the table, “Nice to meet you as well, Jiwon’s told me a lot about you.”

  You listened to him speak, picking up on something in his tone that made your eyes narrow subtly. The itching grew worse and you tried to be conspicuous with your scratches, the sound drowned by the low hum of the nightclub around you.

  “And you must be (Y/N).” The words to respond got stuck in your throat, as though something was causing your trachea to swell and your voicebox to break. You tried to smile politely, really you did, but your jugular grew to a point of pain where controlling your facial features was becoming difficult. 

  Clearing your throat, you struggled past the pain and brought your hands into clenched fists under the table. “That’s me.” And that was all you could manage. Jiwon began a conversation that you couldn’t focus on at all but the sound of her voice was comforting.

 God, what was wrong with you today?

 You closed your eyes tightly, letting the low droning of your friends' voices ground your senses. You were becoming mildly overwhelmed, to say the least, and you just needed a few seconds to come back to yourself before maintaining a facade of sociability. 

  The night had only just begun, and yet… you really just wanted to sleep.

  A light touch to the hand clutching your drink caused you to open your eyes, turning to meet the concerned eyes of Ji-Ah. Communicating silently, you assured her through your eyes that you were okay. Having known each other for so long, reading each others’ facial expressions was like being fluent in another language.

  “- and then, this guy, Hongjoong I think his name was-” 

  You couldn’t help it; the hairs that were already on end seemed to stand impossibly straight and goosebumps erupted all across your skin. The nauseous feeling in your stomach that you’d tried so desperately to ignore returned tenfold and you emptied everything you’d consumed on the floor.

  You coughed violently. Ji-Ah stroked your back with a soothing hand and encouraging words, reaching for a water someone must’ve brought to the table. 

  Accepting it gracefully, you took a sip and washed your mouth out of the taste of your own vomit. After a while of sitting keeled over at a table, you assumed it was some cleaners that had to come to clean up your mess. You would’ve apologised profusely but you were hit with a wave of exhaustion so powerful Ji-Ah had to actually wrench you back upright from your clothes. 

  “Alright, that’s it. I’m taking you home.”

  “No, Ji-Ah, I’m okay. I swear-”

  “Tell that to the cleaners who just swiped away your stomach acid. For fuck sake, you’re green in the face! You aren’t well. Now. Let’s. Go.” Once Ji-Ah had her mind set on something, there was no use in disputing against her. You wouldn’t win. 

  Before even turning to look at Jiwon and Wooyoung, you knew Jiwon was sitting there with an expression of utter devastation and regret. She’d blame herself, even if nothing was her fault. “Jiwon-ah, I know exactly what you’re thinking. I’ve had a wonderful day and this does not erase the fact that this has been the best birthday I’ve had in a while.”

  Ji-Ah wrapped your arm around her shoulders and grabbed your bag from the seat. “It was lovely to meet you, Wooyoung. Sorry to cut it so short.” 

  He’d rested his head on top of Jiwon’s. His arms wrapped around her, evoking a sharp spike in your heart rate and the final reawakening of that damn itch on your neck. He smirked, tilting his head as though considering your entire being. Eventually, he must’ve found what he was looking for. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other a lot more often.”

  Ji-Ah’s hand tightening from its place supporting your waist made you realise just how ominous that sounded. “Now that we’ve officially met, I’d love to get to know my… girlfriend’s friends a bit more, wouldn’t you agree?”

  You laughed awkwardly, and nodded. “See you around, then.”

  “Goodnight, (Y/N). Happy Birthday.” 

  Then, bidding final goodbyes, you and Ji-Ah walked out of that nightclub but not without a final glance back at the couple. Something compelled you to look and you saw, with appallment, that Wooyoung was actively biting Jiwon on the neck. She seemed to be enjoying it. Thoroughly. So you turned around and tried to rid your mind of that sight.

  What you didn’t see were the black veins spreading from where he’d bitten, Jiwon collapsing against him like a puppet with no strings and a euphoric breath leaving his mouth. 

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

  Ji-Ah drove you home and the first thing you did was collapse onto your bed and sleep. The day had taken its toll on you and you were more than prepared for the comforts of Dreamland.

  As you snored away, the book on your nightstand grew alive. The cover was thrown open and pages were being flipped of their own will. ‘The Hidden War Within’ began to glow in the dim light of your bedroom, a white light emitting from its pages and the faint heat made you burrow into your pillow, subconsciously comforted by the warm aura. 

  Eventually, the pages ceased their movements but the book remained open; it was the first dated entry. 

A plague punctures mine heart,

Mine soul forever tainted by thine words,

For false promises and careless lies are such sweet sins,

And I pray, I may drown in the Light,

Than sink into the Darkness.

~ Anonymous

[lostloveletters]

Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed. 

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket. 

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.” 

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.” 

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do. 

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list. 

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb. 

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor. 

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.” 

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?” 

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed. 

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric. 

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.” 

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him. 

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt. 

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them. 

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs. 

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy. 

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.  

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser. 

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue. 

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.” 

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.” 

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

[pomefiore-visitor]

FtM Guzma pussy eating with a gn reader (terms used for Guzma: pussy, cunt, clit, hole, core)

I do not consent to minor interaction, minors DNI

“Good fucking God. ” Guzma grits through his teeth, his fists balling into your hair.

 He grinds on your face the way that he does everything; quick and dirty, like he's cheating at a game he knows he’ll win. Slick drips down your chin and coats the bottom half of your face and his plump thighs squeeze at your head. 

“Fu-fuck” He stutters, his mind racing a mile a minute. “You look so fuckin’ good like that. Look so fuckin’ good getting your face fucked.” He punctuates that last word with a mean roll of his hips, grinding his wet core against your swollen lips. “God you love this pussy, don’t you?” He asks you with a satisfied, smug smirk. His head is tilted back in pure ecstasy, and his eyes are screwed shut.

He fucks your mouth frantically, and cries out something sinful with every brush of his painfully erect clit against your hot warm mouth. His hole flutters against your tongue, desperate to ride the slippery muscle but oh so content to rut against you like a beast in heat. “Doin’ such a good job in between my legs, angel,” He moans, his hips stuttering as he watches you tongue his insides. 

You moan against his pussy (which causes his fingers to dig into the crown of your skull because it feels that fucking good ) and he almost breaks. That carefully crafted mask that he wears near permanently, the one that no one is able to see past besides you and Plumeria. You love seeing him vulnerable, and you adore that you’re able to take him apart with just your mouth. Obscenities pour from his lips and he has to shift his grasp from your hair to his sheets. Strong arms grabbing at the fibers there.

“God– Fuck. You’re so good at eating pussy.” Guzma babbles, going on a tangent as the pleasure muddles his brain. “Feels so damn good. Wanna watch you go down on me for fuckin’ hours sweetheart.” 

He pants and lurches forward as you give a particularly good swipe of the tongue. And when you start sucking on his sensitive clit he shouts . Overstimulated and needy from all the pleasure he was feeling down between his legs. And without realizing, he's screaming something guttural, hanging his head as drool dribbles down his chin. You keep sucking at his twitching clit while an orgasm rips through his body, choosing to torture your poor boyfriend.

Guzma screams so well, his voice coming to a peak whenever you make him cum as hard as you do. And come hard Guzma absolutely did. The compact white curls of his hair stuck to his face in tight waves as beads of sweat rolled down his deep skin. He was breathing so heavily now, and his chest was heaving. He came with a force that rocked his body to its core as he shook and trembled above you.

You give him a moment to catch his breath, and then tap his thigh twice to get him to climb off of your mouth, a thin string of his own slick and wet mixing with your saliva. He flops next to you, clearly spent. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ” is the only thing he's able to choke out after a while, voice hoarse. When you turn over to look at him he stares back, pupils blown. He looks at you like you’re sacred, like he could worship the ground you walk on for eating him out like that. And despite him looking like he had something to say, he curls up under your chin, clinging to you as tremors wracked his body. 

“You did— gh” He swallows a breath. “So good.” You laugh at this and pull him close, looking down at the form cuddled up to you in your arms. 

“Yeah? You like it?” You say with smugness in your voice, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

And he's giggling into a seedy moan, turning over in your arms with his hands dragging down his face. He could very well be kicking his feet and twirling his hair like a giddy teenager at the question. You laugh with him, although not for the same reason. He’s cute like this, needy and wanting. 

“Okay.. okay. Calm down lovebug, you’re okay” you say sweetly at him, holding him closer in your arms. Eventually getting comfortable as you lean over the side of the bed and turn off the lights, bringing a silk pillow under Guzma’s head so he doesn't complain in the morning (And of course he’s already nodding off, mumbling something incoherent and making grabby hands at you when you leave his side.) You kiss him once, twice, and finally lay with him, eventually joining him in sleep.

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

For everyone’s entertainment (because according to my friend, it’s hilarious that I’ve fucked to nearly every gvf song) -

Greta Songs that I have done the deed to and how I rank them:

Age Of Machine, 10/10 - this one hit. I can’t even begin to explain it. If you haven’t put this song on your filthy playlist, it should be on there. Go do it.

The Archer, 10/10 - Gah damn. That’s all I can even say about this one.

The Barbarians, 10/10 - Obviously. I mean, come on. Good shit.

Frozen Light, 10/10 - That bass line? She’s sexy, so therefore… it fits a sexy environment.

Fate Of The Faithful, 9.5/10 - This one is down right NASTY. Like holy fuck I’d let this song put a baby in me. DAYUM when I tell y’all this one just hits different. Jesus christ.

Stardust Chords, 9/10 - I know what y’all are probably thinking… but it’s so good.

The Falling Sky, 9/10 - Was definitely adding to the intensity. In the right situation, this shit will get you railed.

Built By Nations, 9/10 - Once again… if the vibes are right, shit will get you railed. It’s heavenly, really.

The Weight Of Dreams, 9/10 - This shit was almost like an otherworldly experience. The guitar solo??? Yeah. Mhm. Orgasmic.

Meeting The Master, 8.5/10 - The change in intensity throughout this song is really what makes it so good to me.

Sacred The Thread, 8/10 - This shit… whew. The drums sell it. The rhythm is immaculate, tbh.

Brave New World, 8/10 - would have NEVER truly expected this one to hit as hard as it did. Good god.

My Way Soon, 8/10 - This one is solid. If it played again while I was doing it, I wouldn’t be mad at all.

Watching Over, 7.5/10 - I can’t say it let me down. It didn’t. It doesn’t always fit the vibes, though.

Lover, Leaver (Taker, Believer), 7/10 - Again, could absolutely dig it in the right situation, otherwise I would deem it a little much.

The Indigo Streak, 6.5/10 - While the solo is sooo fuckinggg sexy, the song overall would not be my first choice, but I don’t dislike it, either.

Safari Song, 6.5/10 - this one was pretty fun after you get beyond Josh’s scream at the beginning 💀

Age Of Man, 6.5/10 - This one would genuinely be sooo much higher on the list, if it didn’t make me so damn emotional.

The Cold Wind, 6/10 - this one’s crazy but… on the occasion I like it.

Light My Love, 6/10 - Unless you’re trying to be all sweet and sappy, I’d stay away from this one… but it was lovely. I won’t lie. I liked it.

Trip The Light Fantastic, 5.5/10 - I loved it and also felt weird about it all at once???

Caravel, 5/10 - I… As sexy as the bass line is, for some reason it just didn’t quite scratch the itch in my brain all the way.

Talk On The Street, 5/10 - Before actually fucking to it, I would have said, “hell yeah, I bet this one would be great!” But it’s just mid.

Heat Above, 5/10 - So sweet… but i’d rather not have flashbacks to my greta show and suddenly be on the verge of tears.

Highway Tune, 4.5/10 - I tried it simply because Jake said it was in a sex scene…

Tears Of Rain, 4/10 - Lowkey… could have put this higher, but also I have to mentally prepare for this song or I will cry. Sooo… idk.

Broken Bells, 3/10 - Great if you like choking on sobs while having sex.

Flower Power 2/10 - This one played on accident… And i did lay there contemplating leaning over and skipping it.

You’re The One, 1/10 - I just… I can’t. It’s TOO sweet, like in a little highschool crush kind of way.

Farewell For Now, 0/10 - This one couldn’t have played at a worse time and I hated every second of it. Love the song, but not for THAT.

[chrisbitchtree]

Take Me To Church

Wishing the happiest of birthdays to my sweet, kind, and incredibly talented friend @grey-sides!!!!!!

Title and the concept of sex as a religious experience has been borrowed from Take Me To Church by Hozier, because I hear someone is a fan!

***

Billy’s never been a particularly religious person. How could he be after the unholy things he’s seen, the horrific things he’s done? The closest he’s come to praying was on the floor a sauna, on his hands and knees, virgin Mary pendant wedged between his teeth, metallic and bitter on his tongue, begging for forgiveness for something he couldn’t stop himself from doing, no matter how hard he tried. Even being resurrected within the four stark white walls of a hospital room didn’t make him a believer, and if that couldn’t, then he was pretty sure nothing could.

But here, now, in this plaid walled Loch Nora bedroom, high above Hawkins, far away from those who cast stones at him for simply daring to live, he feels like he’s in a sacred temple, built just for him to worship. For him to worship Steve, laid out before Billy on silken sheets as red as the blood of a sacrificial lamb, lips wine stained and kiss swollen, arms out and body laid bare, like Billy’s own personal Jesus, Billy thinks he might understand religion.

He might understand why people pray, why they worship, why they let their gods eat them whole, consuming them completely, body, mind, and spirit. Because loving Steve, Steve who saved him, saved Billy when he couldn’t save himself, saved Billy from himself, is Billy’s own religion, in a way.

Every press of Billy’s lips is a bead on the rosary, every stroke, every thrust a silent declaration of his devotion, every hot breath ghosted over creamy, mole covered skin, every murmured word of affection a plea to be loved by his one true god in return.

Steve grounds him and centres him, makes him feel whole, and makes him feel holy, filling Billy’s heart with assuring words and sweet gestures. Never once does Steve lead him astray.

Here, now, as Steve takes what is so willingly given to him, everything Billy has offered up on a silver platter, Billy knows that this room is his church. This bed is his pew, and he kneels for prayer before this holy being.

Billy doesn’t truly know what an exaltation is, but he believes it must be something close to this, his body becoming one with Steve’s, as Billy accepts Steve’s body into his own, as he’s pressed behind Billy, playing his body like an instrument, every whimper, every moan, a beautiful hymn sung high to the heavens above.

Here, now, with a cooling breeze rustling the curtains, the sun setting behind the trees, a perfect contrast to the light, the heat Billy feels pouring off of the holy body that’s touching him, tasting him, giving him the ultimate divine pleasure, Billy feels bathed in a holy light. With a gasp, the mortal world washes away, and Billy feels like he’s descending to the heavens. Truly, completely. Hallelujah.

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

NETDIR://URBANDICTIONARY.WEB, a kerry eurodyne / V ficlet (1000~ words, rated E, humor & smut)

V swipes a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror. His chrome palms squeak against the glass, squeegeeing off a section that he can see his reflection in— freshly showered, a little ruddy from the residual heat and harsh scrubbing where his brown skin peeks through his blackout geometric tattoos. Even the worst gigs could be showered away with the combination of ten-in-one soap, shampoo and motor oil.

And he wants to look good. He’s got a date— a date, honest-to-God, not burritos at Caliente’s or a marathon of reality TV at the Villa, but a dinner at some expensive ‘ganic restaurant that Kerry invited him to. V combs his fingers back through his damp hair from root to tip, that bright green mullet, peers at himself in the mirror. He turns his head, side to side, rubs his fingers across the stubble on his jaw. Maybe he should shave. He shifts, lifts up an arm, flexes a little. Maybe he should jerk off.

V turns in the mirror. He looks good, maybe even good enough for Kerry Eurodyne. And he’s not posing, because that’s stupid, even in the solitary safety of his Megabuilding bathroom, but he may be flexing a little, watching the way the muscles in his arms jump, the way the gunmetal tendons attached to his gorilla fists bulge a little and the plates of his chrome arms threaten to separate underneath.

“Hey Kerry. Hey, Ker,” his voice pitches a little, tries on a few different purrs, lets himself taste the way Kerry’s name feels in his mouth. “Kerry, baby, how’s it going?”

He’s going to crush this date. Fuckin’ kill it. He slicks his hair back a different way, tilts his hips and grins in the bright bathroom lighting. “Y’look good tonight, Ker.” Number one Solo, number one date. There’s no way he can lose. He’s got this. He leans forward, raking his eyes over himself. Mutters, “call me NetWatch the way I’m gonna go through your Blackwall—”

“Call me NetWatch,” Johnny repeats, stressing each word, “the way I’m gonna go through your Blackwall?”

“God damnit, Johnny!”

V nearly jumps out of his skin, whipping his head around to glare at the engram. Looking thoroughly unimpressed, he slouches a foot away on top of the closed toilet, his aviators having slid down his nose just enough to really let V see how deeply, truly unenthused he is.

“I’m in the bathroom. Is nowhere fucking sacred?” V complains, turning back around to give Johnny the literal cold shoulder. “I didn’t ask for comments.”

Johnny ignores him. In the mirror’s reflection, he shifts where he sits, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think that’ll work? That’s a good line to you? A real panty wetter?”

“Okay, peanut gallery, you got anything better?”

“I mean, yeah, I can think of plenty of better lines then referring to— what, what the fuck is the Blackwall supposed to be in this hackneyed metaphor? Kerry’s asshole?” V rolls his eyes, though admittedly, he hadn’t exactly thought it through that far. Snidely, Johnny adds, “you’re not even a ‘runner.”

V glares at him through the reflection of the mirror. “I’ll workshop it, alright?”

Johnny groans, “Jesus Christ.”

——

The slap of skin-on-skin bounces off the walls of Kerry Eurodyne’s bathroom in tandem with his moans. V’s got one hand under Kerry’s thigh, lifting his leg up high enough that it’s nearly atop the counter as he fucks into him hard and fast. Kerry takes him so fucking well, looks gorgeous in front of the mirror, V’s white chrome hands indenting the skin where he grips him.

Kerry groans, catches V’s hungry gaze in the mirror’s reflection and bites his lip. He can feel him purposefully clench around his cock; it’s downright pornographic. V can’t help but moan.

“God damn, Ker,” he pants, presses his mouth against the back of his neck as he mindlessly thrusts. He licks a stripe up his neck, bites at skin salty with sweat. He moans, “feel so good—“

Kerry braces himself against the marble, his other hand moving to stroke his own cock. “C’mon, V,” his single-syllable name turns into multiple with each thrust jolting him; Kerry arches his back, groans, “fuck me, fuck.“

“Fuck, you feel so good—“ V groans, feels his orgasm build in his belly, nearly delirious with it, the burn in his abs and the way his balls tighten, “fuck, Kerry, say my name—“

“V, V—“

“Fuck, call me Netwatch the way I’m goin’ go through your asshole—”

Kerry stops. V’s hips stutter to a halt.

“What?”

“What?” Responds V.

“No, seriously,” Kerry’s flushed face, now pinched with utter confusion, stares at V through the mirror’s reflection; when V avoids his gaze, he tries to crane his neck back to catch his stare face-to-face, which is more successful than it should be. Rarely, V has hated Kerry’s steadfast yoga habit, but today is one of those days. “What the hell did you just say?”

He doesn’t even sound mad, just utterly perplexed.

“I, uh…” The words in V’s mouth have melted into molasses, sticky and unpleasant. “I… say? What did I say? I didn’t?”

He did. He fucking did. He knows what he said, and yet all he can do, in lieu of speaking, is gesture fumblingly with his hands, which he no longer knows what to do with. His dick’s still in Kerry. He’s vaguely bewildered with himself and his own place in the universe, and what sort of higher entity he must have angered to have fucked up so spectacularly.

Somewhere far away, and simultaneously much too close, V can hear Johnny cackle.

“You’re gonna netwatch my asshole?” Kerry asks with a kind of mild concern that makes V want to curl up and die, even if his eyes are kind. “That somethin’ the kids are saying nowadays?”

Forehead thunking against the back of Kerry’s neck to hide his face, V groans, “let the relic fucking take me now.”

[moreapples]

“Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.” — 1 Corinthians 9:19–23

~~~~~

"All Things to All People"

By Jennifer Kane

To serve the call of Christ, I yield,

Becoming all things, unafraid to bend,

For His love crosses all boundaries, revealed

In every face, each stranger, a friend.

In every culture, hue, and tongue,

God’s love spans ages, far and wide.

With open arms and praises sung,

In Him, our differences abide.

I meet each heart on sacred ground,

Where customs speak and voices rise.

In learning, I am newly found—

A vessel shaped for His surprise.

Where weakness dwells, I join in grace,

Embracing those whose burdens weigh.

Through empathy, I find my place,

In humbleness, Christ leads the way.

This path demands I lay down pride,

And trade my comforts for His call.

Yet joy abounds, deepened, amplified,

In sharing Christ, I find my all.

Oh, blessed work to share the news,

Where souls unite, a family formed.

In bonds of faith, we can’t refuse,

A love by sacred fire warmed.

With tender heart, I strive to be

In step with sorrows, dreams, and fears,

For empathy becomes the key

To join in laughter, dry the tears.

In giving up, I gain much more—

A harvest greater than my own.

For Christ, who walked through Heaven’s door,

Rewards each seed of love I’ve sown.

~~~~~

Paul’s dedication to spreading the gospel shines in his words to the Corinthians. He relinquished personal comforts and even his rights so that others might come to know Jesus. Paul’s ministry was marked by adaptability—not compromise of God’s truth, but a willingness to meet people where they were. When he was with the Jews, he respected their customs; with Gentiles, he adapted to their culture without straying from Christ’s teachings.

This adaptability wasn’t a strategy to fit in; it was an act of sacrificial love. Paul was willing to “become all things to all people” so that he could reach them effectively for Christ. His approach models how we, too, can build relationships across diverse backgrounds and perspectives to share the gospel.

In order to apply Paul’s approach of being “all things to all people” today, we must start by listening first. Listening is often the most effective way to show love and respect. When we truly listen, we see people as individuals and value their unique stories. This makes them more open to hearing the message of Jesus.

We must be kind. Our words and actions should reflect Christ’s love. Even when discussions become heated or we face hostility, kindness can open doors that defensiveness might close. James 1:19–20 reminds us to be “quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger."

We should understand culture without compromising the gospel. Paul knew that sharing the gospel sometimes meant understanding cultural nuances. Like him, we can learn about people’s backgrounds and perspectives to connect on common ground, as long as we stay rooted in God’s truth.

We must acknowledge and confront prejudice. Recognize and surrender any biases we may hold. Paul had to release his own prejudices as a former Pharisee to embrace his mission to the Gentiles. We can pray for humility to lay aside judgmental attitudes and instead show Christ’s love to everyone.

The gospel is a challenging message—it’s offensive to human pride and contradicts the sin nature. But as Christians, our goal is to ensure that it’s only the cross that offends, not our attitudes or behaviors. Our example in the world should be a reflection of Christ’s compassion, as we humbly give up our “rights” and meet people where they are for the sake of the gospel.

Consider someone in your life who might need a gentle, understanding approach to hearing the gospel. Pray for the opportunity to connect with them in a meaningful way, and be willing to listen to their story. Remember that Christ has called us to love others as He does, with grace and compassion.

~~~~~

Lord, help me to become all things to all people for Your glory. Give me the courage to let go of my comforts and preferences so that I can reach others with Your love. May I listen with compassion, act with kindness, and stand firm in Your truth. Teach me to see people as You see them and to meet them where they are, just as You met me.

Grant me the wisdom to understand without judgment, and to speak with words that lift others up and point them toward Your heart. When I am with those who feel lost or rejected, may I offer Your hope; when with those burdened by shame or guilt, let me bring them to Your grace. Guide me to build bridges across divides, and to break down walls of prejudice and pride within me.

Help me surrender my fears, my pride, and my desire for comfort. Instead, let Your Spirit fill me with courage, humility, and love that knows no bounds. Give me the strength to embrace each person I encounter as a child of God, with their own struggles, dreams, and value. May I bear Your light in every situation, making space for Your Spirit to move in the lives of those around me.

Lord, use me as a vessel of Your mercy and truth, and make my heart tender to the needs of those I seek to reach. Let my life be a living example of Your love and grace, drawing others not to myself but to You. For Your glory and the sake of Your gospel, Lord, I give my life into Your hands. In Jesus' name, Amen.

[mrxcreepypastamadness]

Hellish Hollows Song #4:

Overdue

Character cover: Ms. L

Notice: Some parts of the lyrics will be changed to fit her theme. Thank you. ^^

Lolli Muttonfudge?: 🎵Who's that girl you see, who grooms her hair so well? This mystery will be unsolved by those whose who fell into this hell.🎵

Pico: 🎵Who's that in the street, stumbling like a drunken bitch, get fucked. Get out of my way do you not see the gun?🎵

Lolli Muttonfudge?: 🎵Now behold the twilight of a so-called racer who somehow found it easy to betray she who she claim to love, the one who laid me low from above.🎵

Pico: 🎵Cool, but who asked? Oh, wait, I know the number - zero! I gotta go, you made me slow I'm getting sick of ya.🎵

*She grew in length as she turned around revealing her true self*

Ms. L: HAHAHAHA

Pico: What the FUCK is that thing!?

Ms. L: 🎵Glad you're here, now it's too late to escape you will know the fear I felt as I began to melt in flames to hate!🎵

Pico: 🎵Jesus Christ, you're the ugliest thing I've seen, Fuckin' die, I didn't know the goddamn slender girl wore green!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Witness who's behind the mask, desecrated you should've been afraid to ask, now in desolation, you will bask.🎵

Pico: 🎵Buncha fancy words for making dudes dead nothing I haven't heard before, Eat lead!🎵

Pico: Die motherfucker! *He began to shoot her depends how many bullets will run out*

Ms. L: 🎵In the whispers of the woods truth echoes freely, the who claims to be just, is a liar. Sure of racer's selfhood but gaze upon me, one look shall reveal what transpired!🎵

Pico: 🎵Got three in the chamber, bitch, I'm packin' heat, best spill where ya took my homie or you'll taste the street! I'm really getting sick of you, I got shit to do, if you're between me and he, you're the one blowing holes through!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Standing on the bridge over the Lord's Inferno, hand in hand, I thought we fight together. And I never lost my trust to my sis until she plunged me to her foe.🎵

Pico: 🎵If that's what you say, guess you had a bad day and now you're here with some kind of curse, your night's getting worse, gonna put you in a hearse if you don't get the fuck outta my way!🎵

*Transitioning to a Hellish background of eyes and mouth*

Ms. L: 🎵Our sacred ties were but sacred to me, how I hated he got off free.🎵

Pico: 🎵What the fuck's this for? I'm not into vore! This place is an eyesore! Didn't your mama say to brush your teeth?🎵

Ms. L: 🎵For her betrayal, the world shall burn!🎵

Pico: 🎵 I'm gonna make your heart churn! How many shots before you learn?🎵

Ms L: 🎵It's their turn! Strike the infestation of the ones who lie through their teeth!🎵

Pico: 🎵For your information, you should be six feet beneath!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Those who feel no guilt, those who feel no sence of shame, all will play my game, all will perish all the same know my name!🎵

Pico: 🎵We got arbiters of vengeance. Cool, what a show, how's that gonna go with a name like Lolli Mario?🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Madness is honesty within a world ruled by Cain, the pain of treachery can only dull with sweet revenge!🎵

Pico: 🎵This whiny shit's killin' me, tonight is such a fucking pain. Want my honesty? The worst thing about you is that stench!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Oh, did our bond of blood truly matter not? Oh, dear sister I did love you, Molly...so then why did you twist the knife in the gash?🎵

*MOLLY (The Forgiven) appears*

Pico: 🎵The fuck this have to do with me? For I was not, was not right there for what had happened. Oh your careless tunnel vision right before the final crash got your ass in lava splash!🎵

MOLLY (The Forgiven): 🎵I know you can't forgive-a-me. For I would not, could not myself for what had happened...Oh, my careless tunnel vision on the final fated crash, burned my sister into ash...T-T🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Who's that girl you see, who grooms her hair so well? Who's the one who saw me as an empty shell to throw in the pyre, to damn within the fire. No need for apologies long past overdue, your sins you'll rue!🎵

Pico: 🎵Wow bro, cool story. Cheap as free, just so you know, sorry not sorry. I couldn't find a soul who cared. None around for the brothers in the underground.🎵

MOLLY (The Forgiven): 🎵Who's that fool you see, It's a me. Oh my dear sis, I'm so sorry, I should've have made sure that you were there, safe and sound maybe you'd still be around...😭🎵 *She fades away*

Ms L: IT'S TIME TO GO TO THE NEXT LEVEL!

Pico: *Pico ran out of bullets as he threw his gun to the ground* Son of a bitch! *He runs off as the background changed into dark hallway as multiple Ms. Ls appeared*

Ms L: 🎵Wind me up, and up I go to claim you all as my prize for all the pain I've endured. I decree it's an eye for an eye!🎵

Pico: 🎵What the fuck's your deal? Can't take the shit out in me! Man, go to therapy! Go fix your miserable life!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Even as you run away, you know that you're here to stay. One martyr will not slake my fury, now your blood will spill in righteous reverie.🎵

Pico: 🎵But you ain't gonna get to me, this ain't a horror movie. I won't be a victim you ain't catchin' me!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Treachery! Come, face me, whipping-boy and know my wrath, for I was toyed with by your vile kin! Come to Abel, pay for sin! Run and run as you might, you can't fight for the guilt of man shall overtake you and snuff out your light!🎵

Pico: 🎵I'm gettin' off this line, Pico is feelin' fine, Pico is livin' through the night! What a shitty monologue, I ain't the one you should flog, I'm gettin' through the fog Goodbye! You utter waste of time! Get an extra life and get the fuck out of mine!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵It's my world, my rules! My justice is overdue! *She fades away*🎵

Pico: Fucking bitch!

Based off of:

Friday Night Funkin' Mario's Madness - Overdue - With Lyrics

Original Lyrics written by: Man on the Internet

Rewritten Lyrics written by: mrxcreepypastamadness

[quoththemaven]

2023 Favoritest Book Reads

Vineland - Pynchon, Thomas

Prophet - Blaché, Sin & Helen Macdonald

And the Ass Saw the Angel - Cave, Nick

Lou Reed: The King of New York - Hermes, Will 

The Color of Magic (Discworld, #1; Rincewind, #1) - Pratchett, Terry

Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative - Kleon, Austin 

Sonic Life: A Memoir - Moore, Thurston

The Fifth Season (The Broken Earth, #1) - Jemisin, N.K. 

Fuzz: When Nature Breaks the Law - Roach, Mary

Everyone's a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too - Sun, Jonny

The Night Masquerade (Binti, #3) - Okorafor, Nnedi 

Home (Binti, #2) - Okorafor, Nnedi 

Binti: Sacred Fire (Binti, #1.5) - Okorafor, Nnedi 

Binti (Binti, #1) - Okorafor, Nnedi 

Black Paradox - Ito, Junji

David Bowie's Low (33 1/3) - Wilcken, Hugo

Faith, Hope and Carnage - Cave, Nick

The Sirens of Titan - Vonnegut Jr., Kurt

Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth - Aslan, Reza

Smashed - Ito, Junji

Time Shelter - Gospodinov, Georgi

Brian Eno's Another Green World (33 1/3) - Dayal, Geeta

Armageddon in Retrospect - Vonnegut Jr., Kurt

Neverwhere (London Below, #1) - Gaiman, Neil 

The Committed (The Sympathizer #2) - Nguyen, Viet Thanh 

Into the Great Wide Open - Canty, Kevin 

Mongrels - Jones, Stephen Graham 

DisneyWar - Stewart, James B.

Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex - Roach, Mary

The Left Hand of Darkness - Le Guin, Ursula K.

My Bloody Valentine's Loveless (33 1/3) - McGonigal, Mike 

Suttree - McCarthy, Cormac

Life's Work: A Memoir - Milch, David

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - Schwab, V.E.

Against the Day - Pynchon, Thomas

Burn It Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood - Ryan, Maureen 

Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA (33 1/3) - Himes, Geoffrey

La Moustache - Carrère, Emmanuel

Janelle Monáe’s The ArchAndroid (33 1/3) - Favreau, Alyssa 

Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea - Pinsker, Sarah 

The Man Without a Shadow - Oates, Joyce Carol

The City & the City - Miéville, China 

Mem - Morrow, Bethany C. 

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind - Harari, Yuval Noah

Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs (33 1/3) - Eidelstein, Eric

Gutshot - Gray, Amelia 

The Price of Time (Watch What You Wish For #1) - Tigner, Tim 

The Revolution Was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers Who Changed TV Drama Forever - Sepinwall, Alan 

Just Kids - Smith, Patti 

Sounds Like Titanic: A Memoir - Hindman, Jessica Chiccehitto 

Flicker - Roszak, Theodore

Tinderbox: HBO's Ruthless Pursuit of New Frontiers - Miller, James Andrew 

Flashback - Simmons, Dan

Flaming Lips' Zaireeka (33 1/3) - Richardson, Mark 

The Sympathizer (The Sympathizer #1) - Nguyen, Viet Thanh 

Pavement's Wowee Zowee (33 1/3) - Charles, Bryan

Neuromancer (Sprawl, #1) - Gibson, William

Invisible Cities - Calvino, Italo

Don't Fear the Reaper (The Indian Lake Trilogy, #2) - Jones, Stephen Graham 

The Wes Anderson Collection - Seitz, Matt Zoller

Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said - Dick, Philip K.

Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly (33 1/3) - Maner, Sequoia

The Nineties - Klosterman, Chuck

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow - Zevin, Gabrielle 

Wanderlust: An Eccentric Explorer, an Epic Journey, a Lost Age - Mitenbuler, Reid

A Heart That Works - Delaney, Rob 

Imago (Xenogenesis, #3) - Butler, Octavia E.

Cryptonomicon (Crypto, #1) - Stephenson, Neal 

Blacktop Wasteland - Cosby, S.A. 

Pearl Jam's Vs. (33 1/3) - Brownlee, Clint

Tracy Flick Can't Win - Perrotta, Tom

Devil House - Darnielle, John 

Adulthood Rites (Xenogenesis, #2) - Butler, Octavia E.

Heat 2 - Mann, Michael & Meg Gardiner

Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures (33 1/3) - Ott, Chris

Dawn (Xenogenesis, #1) - Butler, Octavia E.

The Diamond Age: Or, a Young Lady's Illustrated Primer - Stephenson, Neal 

The Republic of Thieves (Gentleman Bastard, #3) - Lynch, Scott 

The Year of the Flood (MaddAddam, #2) - Atwood, Margaret 

[sixminutestoriesblog]

Kallikantzaros

What's Christmas without a bit of mischief? At least that seems to have been the thought behind the kallikantzaros who showed up during the Twelve Days of Christmas to harass anyone foolish enough to be outside after dark.

In Greek folklore, the kallikantzaroi live underground. Day in and day out, they saw away at the trunk of the great tree that holds up the entire world. When that tree falls, the world will fall with it. All year long their cut into the tree grows bigger, until Christmas day when a single blow of the ax will finally cleave it full through. However the kallikantzaroi are union workers and off the clock means off the clock. Or, if you want it a bit more traditional, when dawn rises on Christmas day the kallikantzaroi are allowed to leave the darkness of the underground and run free on the world above. This is so distracting to them that they immediately drop their saws and axes and abandon their work on the tree to, en mass, flood up to the world above. There they are free to run amok to their hearts content until the Epiphany day. There are two reasons that give them this opening. In the first, the twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany are believed to be the days that the baby Jesus was unbaptized. This makes those days the 'dirty days' or the 'unbaptized days' when evil is free to do what it wants on the earth. The second belief is that the sun stands still from Christmas until Epiphany and this break in the natural order gives these imps the opportunity they need to escape into the human world. When the sun dawns on Epiphany however, the sun either starts moving again or Jesus has been visited by the magi and baptized and the kallikantzaroi must return to their homes underground.

While they've been away having their fun, the great tree of life has regrown its trunk entirely and so they must begin all over again.

This happens every year. Not once does anyone stay behind once the work whistle blows to give just one more blow with their axe before they leave and finish the job.

The kallikantzaroi, in Greek stories, aren't the brightest Christmas lightbulbs on the tree.

As such there are a number of ways you can keep them from showing up and causing mischief at your house at night. And you absolutely do not want these goblins in your house. Once they get in, they will spoil your food, break your furniture, harass the people inside, misplace items and steal your sweets!

To keep the kallikantzaroi away, the standard food bribes worked well. By throwing desserts called loukoumades along with sausage on your roof and singing the accompanying song, you could pay off the kallikantzaroi to leave you alone. If bribery wasn't your thing, you could go with trickery. Leaving a sieve on your doorstep was sure to keep the kallikantzaroi busy all night long, trying to count all the holes in it. This was even harder for the kallikantzaros because it could only count up to two. Three is a sacred number and saying it outloud would immediately burn the kallikantzaros to ash. Want to go the old fashioned route? Fire is never a bad solution. Keeping a fire, sometimes the yule log, burning in your hearth at night for the twelve days kept the kallikantzaroi from sliding down the chimney and into your house. If you didn't think fire alone was going to be enough, you could add old smelly shoes to the fire and if the heat wouldn't keep the monsters away, the stench surely would. If you were short on time, a black cross on your door and some burned incense would work too.

Inside, there were a myriad of ways to stay safe but once you set foot outside after dark, you were on your own. In Greece, they would simply seize you by the arm and force you to dance with them until the sun rises. In Serbia, the karakondžula would leap on a person's back and force them to carry them on wild runs through the wood all night long. The Serbian karakondžula was especially fond of adulterers, sitting on the lintel above their doorway until the person tried to sneak out in the night to see their lover. Then they would leap down from the doorway onto their back and lash them with sticks or scrape them with their long claws while forcing them on their midnight run. The karakondžula would return each night of the Twelve Nights until the adulterer admitted their unfaithfulness to their partner. Bulgarian karakondjul are shapeshifters and in Albania, the karkanxholji are chain draped, walking corpses with deadly breath.

It was possible to end up a kallikantzaroi too if you weren't careful. Anyone who was unbaptized or a criminal was at risk. So were children that had been born during the twelve 'unbaptized' days of Christmas, though they were safe until adulthood. After that though, each Christmas, they were in danger of turning into one of the goblins and ending up underground on Epiphany with them, forever in the dark. To save a child from growing up with that kind of threat hanging over them, a parent could wrap their child in garlic or straw or singe their toenails (carefully). A little bit less dangerous as birthdays go, anyone born on a Saturday was supposed to be able to talk with the kallikantzaroi.

So what exactly does a kallikantzaros look like? No one seems to be sure. They're creatures of the night and as such seem to hold all the vagueness that shapes seen in the dark near your open closet do. They're dark, they're ugly, they're squat, they're hairy, they have animal parts, they're small, they're large - they're whatever horrible form you need them to be. They're imps of Satan, they're goblins, they're taking orders from their mother, they're whatever mischief suits them in the moment and the story. Perhaps they're a throwback to the ancient Greek celebrations of Dionysia. Perhaps they go even further back than that to the short days of winter when the dead were allowed to leave their graves and haunt the living. Whatever they were to start, these days they're here to cause trouble and forget about the tree they're supposed to be cutting down.

Merry Christmas.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Our Daily Homily

by F.B. Meyer

"My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer." – Psalm 45:1

This dignifies the meanest occupation. By this motive the apostles urged their converts to daily duty, slaves though they were in the houses of rich and godless owners. They were taught to look upon their lot as the will of God; and to do service as unto the Lord, and not unto men, seeking the praise of God as their sufficient reward.

As we take in hand the bits of carved work which once stood high in the cathedral roof, but now lie almost hidden by rank vegetation, and consider the exquisite carving, which the artists never thought would be so minutely inspected, we feel that each unknown craftsman did his work for the King. There is no doubt that the religious intention of their work elevated their meanest toils to the level of sacred service. Let us endeavour each day to realize that everything may be done for Jesus which may be done at all. Do you take food? It is that the body may be deft and quick to execute his purposes. Do you rest and seek recreation? It is that your energies may be recuperated, and that the tide of nervous power may return with fresh vigor. Do you manufacture, buy and sell, advise and preach? All may be inspired by the one purpose, that his will may be done, his kingdom come—which is righteousness, peace, and goodwill to men.

Such a life, however, is only possible when the heart overflows, bubbles up and over, with goodly matter. The heart must always be in contact with the fervent love of Christ. It is only as the Divine heat passes into us that the affections will boil up and overflow in holy act. Let us make the things about the King before we speak them. Let us give time to muse, that the fire may burn.

[crdsnystories]

today was a story of hope, patience and trust. Last weekend, i am loaded with school works due to my preliminary exams plus im also a secretary in our organization. Today, monday supposedly was the submission of accreditation files and my prelim exam for a major subject. Yesterday i am filled with emotions, I've been over my laptop the whole day, busy scanning, editing and filling up all the forms for accreditation. I was planning on finishing them all because today was the deadline but due to some miscommunications and stressful events i didn't finish the files yesterday so i ended up breaking down and crying over my ate's side. Im telling pat that im so stressed and couldn't do this anymore. I was crying and laying down because im so tired and stressed. overwhelmed on what to do next. im scolded by my senior, kasi he was shocked by the total price na nagastos ko sa print. he told me that next before i make a move is to consult him muna. gaslighting myself was the only thing i did as i rest. my family was so eager to push me na magpahinga na muna, not me holding back my tears because i don't want to feel that thing anymore its reminding me of the trauma i had before. every move i make yesterday i feel like im going to end up dropping out again because of anxiety. But yesterday, pat messaged me that he will go here as i messaged him na "ayoko na, im tired. all i want is to cry." he was at his friend's bday but as soon as he came back from candelaria he headed right away here sa house. fast forward today. i woke up vv early para maabutan ko na ako ang kaunahan sa printing shop sa bayan but i ended up waiting for a long period of time & then my professor announced that our exam will be movex tomorrow so yay because wala pa akong review and all. going back, I had to think of another plan because pag iniintay ko sa iisang printing shop matatagalan ako lalo (i need to xerox all the printed files from yesterday para less magastos) so i messaged khaila and asked her if she is not busy kasi magpapasama ako. and yes she's not busy. so im with her we roam around quezon avenue just to look for a book binding shop and printing shop. afterwards, we went to sacre kasi dun daw yung may bookbind. yes we were naligaw kasi nalimutan nung senior ko kung san yung place imagine walking around merchan st. wearing a full white uniform in this heat. then we end up there para mag pa bookbind. dumating na yung asst. secretary namin, she helped us and stuff then we decided to split ways. she went back to school to ask the Office of Student Affairs kung pede tomorrow mag pasa ng accreditation files. thank You Lord they agreed na pede. afterwards khaila & i went home. rest a bit and yay for nanay for treating us mcdo. at 2pm we went back sa printing shop para kunin yung bookbind. All i did was to pray na sana tapos na lahat ng bookbind para madala ko na sa school lahat. thankfully, pagdating namin dun tapos na lahat & na dala ko na sa school. my senior was there & he was light no stress at all.

before going out the house all i felt was anxiety. gusto ko nalang wag tumuloy sa pag aasikaso kasi baka mamaya mapagalitan na naman ako. but no, today was a Jesus encounter. He made everything light and assured me that my stress will be gone away. So He sent me pat to be there because He knows that pat is my safe place, he even told me that he wanted to attend the mass too sadly we didn't make it because of the traffic but we still went there, another one is He sent me khaila & claire for they helped me get through this "pag-aasikaso ng red book day" The Lord helped me today, from waking me up until ending this day. He made sure that everything will be smooth sailing. we had a smooth talk with the osa, we had a smooth conversation with our organization's adviser & we had a smooth settlement with my senior. The Lord truly reminded me that the anxiety of my heart will be replaced with gratefulness of my soul. Bonus that my family will always be my back up. Nanay for the mcdo, ate tet for the gentle pat in the back that its not my fault and tatay for assuring me that everything i need is in that place.

forever grateful for these grace and life. i don't know if im giving back enough to Him. but I know that everything is possible because of Him.

[blonghoonie]

Something that's happening in India is the debate against legalisation of same-sex marriage. With idiots claiming that the lgbt+ community is "spreading their views and propaganda and manipulating children (Jesus fucking Christ), it's pretty heated on twitter.

What is also spreading in twitter in relation to this debate is the following image:

Dearest humans, we were born from neither Adam, Eve, nor Steve.

The current widely accepted theory of life is the Chemical Evolution theory, which states that matter like Hydrogen, Carbon dioxide, and ammonia in presence of extreme temperatures and lighting formed inorganic substances which in turn formed into organic substances which gave rise to life.

Subsequent life forms evolved from this primitive life form. Then, through years of gradual mutation, adaptation etc, apes were formed, and then parallely formed humanoid species that eventually became Homo sapiens sapiens, aka the modern man.

(This is exactly what we science students of grade 12 are taught in the chapter named "Evolution". From a textbook approved by the government.)

Using the Bible, or any religious book, as "evidence" for how life originated is bullshit. What is even more bullshit is the fact that heterosexual conservative assholes are taking away a right from the lgbt+ community in India, a right that harms heteros in no way.

When domestic violence and sexual harassment is very prevalent in India, with cases rising everyday, instead of taking actions against those that actively harm people, they're illegalising a completely harmless thing.

Also, marriage is apparently a sacred thing and for procreation purposes. Uh. The infertile couples in the country liked that statement very much.