#Witnesses await church

[killinqpills]

★ ─── yandere sagau.

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄.

𝕿𝗛𝗘 imposter was a florist.

Barbatos simply pushed that information far back within the confines of his mind, it wouldn't have served to sway his judgement anyways, because regardless of his divinity, he was but a servant when faced against a being higher than that of celestia.

He exists for the sole purpose of appeasing the creator, he will do well in bending to their will, to scramble for perfection at even a mere flick of their hand, and if that same hand demands the death of the mortal brave enough to usurp the creator right beneath their noses, then that is what shall happen.

But venti, was an entirely different tale.

He was a mere bard, who sang rhymes as old as time in a tavern filled with drunk rowdy men. Spending the hours of the late day drinking his sorrows away with his seventh glass of dandelion wine, he likes apples just as much as wine, and has a particular disdain for cats and slimy things.

He was not as mighty of a god as some may claim him to be, for what he held was not strength, but love. So much of it that he'd cut down terrains to make the lands more habitable for his people, granted everyone freedom above all else because he couldn't do the same for the very first person he knew had yearned for it.

Sometimes, he finds himself sitting at the hands of his own statue, a reflection of his status as an archon, even if the eyes that have been carved to look so kind were not his own. He still finds comfort in the way it reminded him of how he was once held as a small sprite.

Gentle.

Like the way you had gifted him dandelions upon learning of his habit to reminisce beneath the stars. You didn't say a word as he took them from you, but with the way you had looked at him so warmly, strangely apologetic for an event in his life that you weren't even around to witness, like you knew, somehow more than he did, and it was more than words could ever offer.

Yearning, healing, and growth.

But what is love to mindless devotion, anyways?

He used to watch you kneel over flower beds, harvesting the prettiest pairs of Cecilia's you could wrap around your fingers, just to neatly distribute them amongst the graves behind the church.

Freedom, honesty of heart, and immortality.

Your own silent way of telling them that they shall never be forgotten, immortal in the way they remain forever living within memories, free in the way they're no longer burdened by the hardships of being alive.

Venti believes you're the kindest soul Teyvat has ever gifted them.

But what is love to mindless devotion?

Now, he watches you kneel before a throne made of gold, with a face mirroring yours looking down upon you. Venti wonders why it's easier to look at you, he wonders why it's only now, that he realized you bore resemblance to the creator, he wonders why he's gripping onto the dandelions within his pocket, now wilted and dried, all in the ways he wishes they weren't.

You're still silent, neither a twitch nor tremble on your form as you took everything they give you, violence and all, with nothing but open arms. Your own silent way of saying their hatred will not be taken to heart.

Venti wishes you weren't that, silent. Somewhere within his conflicted heart, he wishes that before everything had come to this, before the creators descent had shackled you to the fate of death, you'd at least given him your name.

He'd recognize your looks blind from the way the winds seem to lovingly caress your hair, he'd know your voice deaf from the way you'd knowingly hum along his songs like you've heard it all before.

But he doesn't know your name.

As you await your fate by the blade in the creators hand, smiling so softly as if you weren't about to bleed out on the ground in mere seconds, all Venti could think was;

They look nothing alike.

Not in the way your features seem to drip with compassion and humanity, so soft in the way the petals which you harvest seem to be. Has the creator always looked so, vicious? With the way their eyes seemed to widen with pure madness, the grin on their lips was anything but kind, anything but the way the scriptures had once to describe them to be.

Loving.

What's loving about all this?

Having their acolytes stand in a line beside them, with an audience surrounding your shriveled form, chanting for a punishment he couldn't understand why you deserved.

Venti remembers the heavy atmosphere that once engulfed the air as an order was placed upon them to hunt you down and drag you back. He remembers being sick to his stomach as he watches the adeptus, xiao, step over your carefully planted garden with little care and demanded that you surrender yourself.

Venti remembers feeling angry at you for doing so willingly.

He wishes you'd at least put up a fight, he wishes you had at least turned to him for help, wishes he had given it.

Venti wishes for a lot of things.

But what is love to mindless devotion?

"You're a brave little thing."

The creator begins, cooing almost, as if talking to a child that had taken something they don't own, but every word was spiked with venom, so much so that despite them being directed at you, everyone else feels oddly poisoned.

"You've played a mockery out of me, did you enjoy every second of it?"

From the corner of his eye, Venti watches as Morax twitch. The only sign of doubt he was willing to show as the creator's most devoted acolyte, in comparison to him, whose hand, still gripping the dandelions within his fist, began to tremble.

Nahida wasn't here.

Morax tries to ignore what her absence could've been insinuating. He tries to ignore the way a feeling of revulsion ignites within him as he stands closest to the creator. But he wonders how long he could play blind to every cry Teyvat seemed to let out as every second of this goes on.

He knows better than to assume it's due to the creators foul mood, for does the sky mourn so deeply for mere anger? The soil beneath his feet grieves for something they have yet to lose, for someone─ his eyes briefly flicker to your knees, where grass strangely grow the softest, as if hoping to cushion your inevitable fall.

He lets his gaze wonder, from the darkening skies, to the wilting plants, all the way towards the crowd that surrounds them. Citizens from only four nations had came to watch the show, something that Zhongli knows is simply a threat hidden beneath the guise of justice being served, a warning.

Anyone who's willing to go against the creators claim to the highest of all thrones will be dealt with.

Yet three archons and their people remain absent, and the creator has yet to bat an eye to the obvious rejection of their existence.

Zhongli feels his finger twitch.

The chants ringing against his ears, grating and annoying.

Beelzebub remains stoic beside him.

"Don't worry, I'll grant you the mercy of sharing your final words." The creator sighed heavily, as if that mere decision took more than it did to take a life.

You remain silent, gaze wandering slowly, carefully, as if you were searching for something yet nothing at all. Kaeya, alone in the crowd without his brother there─ Diluc couldn't come, couldn't stand there without feeling as though he'll empty his organs out at the very sight of you hurt─ wonders exactly what it is you're looking for. It couldn't have been sympathy, you seemed so full of it already, why would you desire more, especially from these people?

He doesn't think you're looking for a savior either, perhaps it's been well over an hour since you've been brought there, forced to kneel on the dirty ground, submitting to everything the crowd would throw at you. Threats, curses and stones, all of it without much of a fuss.

If it was help you're looking for, you would've been begging for it from the start. Strange, you seemed almost resolved to accept your fate.

The calla lilies burn at his palms, he's gentle with the way he holds them, afraid that if he had held it even a tad bit firmer, it would crumble. Like how he feels as though if he removes his eyes from your form, you'd be gone in a blink. It doesn't matter if his eyes are stinging from dryness, or were they tears? Kaeya didn't wish to know, all he wanted was to engrave every edge of your existence in his memory if this shall be the last chance he'll ever get.

Most people aren't often aware of how much time they have with someone, he's anything but lucky, but to meet your eyes for the very last time, to receive that loving smile of yours despite the bruises on your skin, he feels like a star had fallen just for him.

His own to make a wish from, but what if what he wants is more time with you?

Your smile just turns all soft, the way he's familiar with it.

I'm sorry.

Huh, you seem to always know, don't you? Somehow it's as if you can speak to his soul, a language he was never familiar with yet know so fluently just to answer you.

I'm sorry too.

"Hm? Nothing at all? Fine then."

Upon your silence, the creator gestures to Morax, telling him to do the honors.

Venti feels his chest thud violently.

Ei sways in place, before stilling once more. Wondering what kind of honor is given from killing someone who'd remain innocent until the creator's arrival. Her mind wanders back to the carefully preserved flowers, Padisarah Orchids, hidden somewhere within her quarters. A gift from Yae who had claimed to have gotten it for free from a traveling florist.

She'd describe them as beautifully gentle in every way, like the very flower they carried with them.

Ei didn't know what other description would've fitted you so perfectly.

Purity, admiration and respect.

Everything she should've, but couldn't't feel for the creator.

You'd like Sakura petals, she couldn't help but think. It's color was as delicate as your soul, as beautiful as the smile you wore now despite the darkness which surrounds you. Ei was once like that, sinking into oblivion for what she believed was necessary, but she had hands to pull her back up.

You do not.

Ei was conflicted.

But love was small against mindless devotion, and Beelzebub couldn't have agreed less, yet regardless of her thoughts, she was still nothing more than a mere tool for the creator to puppet for their desires, no matter how selfish.

If that were true, why do you tremble so, Ei?

She chooses to look away.

Furina though, felt hopeless. She regretted not taking Neuvillette's offer to attend in her place. She knew that if it were him standing before such injustice, he would've done something, would've spoken up to defend the innocent soul being painted a villain right before her very eyes.

She was an archon yes, but ultimately powerless against gods who have lived far longer than she had, known more than she ever could. Because alas, the curse of immortality did not make her any less human.

500 years did not make her wiser nor stronger, perhaps all it ever did was remind her of the loneliness she had endured. The pain of being left in the dark, of playing a role she did not want. She was given a script with no context and was told to do what she must.

Was it the same for you? She wonders. Were you given the gift of life as well, to experience the beauty of time and the end of it, but with the consequences of something as simple as existing?

Furina knew better than to scorn you for the sin the creator had claimed you've committed. For she knew that at times, you aren't given the chance to write your own fate. Sometimes, the pen dances along your pages for you, leaving you to slip on leftover ink.

Furina remains silent, the heavy mask she put on as an obedient acolyte was slipping ever so slightly.

Don't look at her like that.

Like you see right through the cracks and love her anyways.

Zhongli approaches you with a spear held loosely within his hand, hoping if he'd wished enough, it'll slip through his fingers and everyone would simply call it a day. But things don't exactly work out that way.

Zhongli wishes, that instead of the warm eyes you fix on him, it was a glare instead, as vicious as the ones being directed at you, because then maybe, it would've made it easier to point the the sharp part of the weapon against your chest, right above where your heart hid, but not really.

It's almost as if your heart was glowing, in a way, he supposes that's what people would describe as wearing your heart on your sleeve. He could almost feel it beat if he focuses hard enough, in fact, if everyone would just shut up for a moment, he bets he can hear the way it thuds against your ribs so calmly, easing away his worries.

Zhongli had never envied a mortal more than he did now, he wonders what it feels to be like you, does your soul find it easy to rest when night falls unlike he? Unburdened by the decisions he had to make for the better and worst? Is your skin as warm as the expression you give him now?

You still haven't spoken a word.

And for a moment, he finds himself envying flowers, as childish as it was. For they know the sound of your voice, they're familiar with the touch of your hands, they're aware of every single one of your doings, and Zhongli wishes they were anything but good. Because then maybe, maybe, sinking a blade to your heart and depriving it of life would be easier to do.

He doesn't want to, truly.

But Morax, despite his divinity, is a servant through and through. For his people, for order, and for the creator, and they, had grown impatient.

"Ugh, enough of this. Kill them." Venomous, like every fiber of their being knew nothing of gentleness, not like how you seemed to drip with nothing but that. The crowd is silenced with fear, and Zhongli, despite himself, raises the weapon in his hand.

And at the same moment as you finally spoke, Morax hurls it into your flesh with eyes closed.

"Why do you smell like hyacinth?"

And oh, your voice was so fucking small. Barely a whisper against Zhongli's ear and his eyes shot open, trembling upon the sight he was met with. Your kneeling form, unable to fall with the way the spear has gone through your chest, all the way through the middle and back out, embedding itself on the ground, prompting you up like some kind of doll made for a circus attraction.

Nobody could cheer, they could not find it in themselves to do so, as they watched you bleed, crimson liquid, as warm as the sun, dripping down the handle of the weapon, slowly, almost hauntingly. They're once again reminded of their humanity as they see the light fade from your very eyes.

Then, a clap. Alone in the silence, the creator laughs in glee at the sight, and nobody else could recall why they were cheering in the first place. This was supposed to be a well deserved punishment no? For daring to usurp the creator, for daring to, what? Sell flowers while they wore the face of a being that holds power over them all?

Zhongli is sick to his stomach.

There's no boom, no light that sparks or any kind of darkness vanishing upon your death, there's only silence. Loud, ringing, he briefly questions what he's done.

Why do you smell like hyacinth?

Hyacinth? Ah, yes. He's familiar with that kind of plant, they're associated with rebirth and deep love. Known for their gorgeous visual appeal, they're mostly popular in spring with a very distinct fragrance.

But Zhongli knows better than to assume that's what you meant.

No.

Why do you smell like sorrow?

Yeah, that makes much more sense. Zhongli smells of deep regret, before he even took a life that was not his to take, he smelled of a deep desire to grieve. That's what purple Hyacinth symbolizes, right?

He remembers now, the day Hu tao had come back to the parlor with hundreds of Hyacinths within her arms, a mix of purples, blues and whites. Upon being asked where she got them, she spoke of a traveling florist, who offered them to her as a gift to the dead. She rambled on about how strangely endearing this person was, how eager they seemed to be to share their knowledge of flowers.

The white ones are purity, but they can also represent prayers for a loved one.

The blue ones were as simple as something tied to sincere care.

Zhongli represents purple ones.

I'm sorry. Please forgive me.

A violet cry was heard behind him, as violent as the winds became as Venti raised a weapon against the creator. Gasp and shouts could be heard, but Zhongli pays them no mind, eyes trained on your unmoving form, focused on the regret he feels, on the apologies he cannot push out with his tongue, distracted with the way something shines against his eyes.

Gold.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

Woah, that was ass.

And for anyone who's wondering, yeah I pulled those flower meanings out of my ass. Not literally tho, I just searched them and used the first thing I saw, don't come for me/hj

Also each of the characters inner monologues or, whatever you call them is my own interpretation of them, may or may not be cannon, I honestly wasn't trying to make them accurate, this was just for fun so don't come for me for that as well/srs

There will be multiple parts to this if I ever get motivation, mwah.

[storiesfromgaza]

Hello, everyone.

This may be the finest and most important article I've written since the creation of this blog, so kindly read it carefully and pay attention.

And share it so that everyone can see it.

There are many events happening tonight, and I will try to summarize them for you so that you have a complete understanding of what is happening.

Twelve days ago, a gruesome incident occurred, most of you have probably heard of it: the occupation forces shelled the Al-Ma'madani Hospital in Gaza, resulting in the deaths of over a thousand people, including patients, their families, doctors, and young children.

Has the occupation been content with this? The answer is no.

Since that day, they have been threatening another hospital, Al-Quds Hospital, with the promise of bombing it, leaving civilians and patients inside in a state of terror, awaiting death at any moment.

The first time this happened, it spread across social media platforms, especially Twitter, and many people protested, causing the occupation to halt its actions.

Today, twelve days after the Al-Ma'madani Hospital massacre, they have once again sent severe threats to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) for the immediate evacuation of Al-Quds Hospital, as it is destined to be bombed.

"🔴 Urgent: We have just received severe threats demanding the immediate evacuation of Al-Quds Hospital as it is set to be bombed.

Since the early hours of the morning, the vicinity of Al-Quds Hospital has been witnessing continuous airstrikes, resulting in the destruction of some buildings within a 50-meter radius.

📢 Please share, save Al-Quds Hospital! 📢

#GazaUnderAttack #GazaUnderSiege #Save_Al-Quds_Hospital

"

The second matter, three days ago, specifically on Friday, the twenty-seventh of this month, the occupation completely isolated Gaza from the world by cutting off the internet, telecommunications, and electricity. They were prepared for a brutal massacre that occurred that night and lasted for two days.

I'm talking about indiscriminate bombardment using all kinds of weapons on all areas of Gaza, whether they were churches, mosques, schools, or homes, regardless of their occupants, be they children, young people, women, or the elderly.

During that period, social media platforms and indeed the entire world were abuzz with the issue.

People from various backgrounds, nationalities, and religions unanimously agreed that it was inhumane to isolate them from the world and deny them the right to have a voice.

They were searching for solutions they could implement.

Some took to the streets, demanding the return of the internet, while others began sharing their plight on social media, primarily on Twitter.

They reached out to activists and officials who had the means to help.

One of the most prominent solutions that everyone turned to was contacting Elon Musk, the former owner of Twitter (X) and the current owner of SpaceX, to enable the people of Gaza to use the internet via Starlink's private satellites.

They hoped that he would hear their plea, as it was their only hope.

He tweeted:

"Starlink will support connectivity to internationally recognized aid organizations in Gaza.

[ComStar]

"

On the same day, five hours after the publication of this tweet, the Israeli Minister of Communications commented on it, saying, in essence, that they would use all available means to prevent the supply of Starlink internet to Gaza because Hamas would utilize it. He also threatened that if this were to occur, he would sever all his office's ties with Starlink.

Now, let's discuss the issue of hostages for a moment because it is of utmost importance to understanding the situation.

On the twenty-fourth of this month, Yasmin Porat, one of the hostages, came forward to talk about her experiences during her captivity.

I will now share some of what she mentioned in the interview:

She stated that Israeli forces eliminated everyone, including hostages, amid heavy crossfire and tank shelling.

She highlighted the contrasting behavior of Palestinian fighters who offered hope for safe passage to Gaza. Israeli forces disrupted this hope with a storm of gunfire.

Palestinian fighters treated the hostages humanely, offering them hope of a safe passage to Gaza, despite the chaos.

This compassionate act stands in stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded.

After the interview was broadcast, it was completely deleted and blocked from all social media platforms and even from Kan's website. Moreover, Yasmin's account mysteriously disappeared from the "Haboker Hazeh" program, raising concerns of censorship.

Below, you will find the interview recording.

During that period, the Al-Qassam Brigades continued their communication with the Israeli government in order to release some prisoners for humanitarian reasons, including their age and health, among them two elderly women, one of whom is named Yohav Levisheitz.

But the Israeli government showed no interest in the matter whatsoever.

As a result, they decided to release the two elderly women.

Before leaving, one of them, Yohav Levisheitz, insisted on shaking hands with one of the resistance fighters who she was their captor, as you can see in the following video.

-Tumblr doesn't allow me to post two videos in a single post, so I will provide the video link on the blog-:

https://www.tumblr.com/storiesfromgaza/732027117370572800/al-qassam-brigades-released-two-of-the-hostages?source=share

After this, she insisted on participating in a press conference to share her experience, saying:

"When we arrived in Gaza, they initially told us that they believed in the Quran and that they wouldn't harm us.

They said they would treat us as they do with those around them.

We were under tight security, and medical professionals arrived to ensure we had the medications we always took.

They showed great concern for our health.

Our place of rest was the mattresses.

We had an accompanying doctor who would visit us every two or three days to check on our well-being.

In addition to a paramedic who looked after us and provided us with our medications.

They took on the responsibility and made sure to provide the necessary medications.

They looked after our hygiene meticulously to safeguard our health so that we wouldn't fall ill.

It was they who took care of cleaning the restrooms, not us.

They provided us with everything we needed, and I acknowledge their help in that.

If equivalent medications weren't available, they offered suitable alternatives.

They were remarkably courteous (kind) and ensured we ate well, sharing the same food they ate (bread, cheese, and cucumbers)

We were treated with kindness, and they paid meticulous attention to every detail.

Women among them understood the importance of feminine hygiene and ensured we had everything we needed.

Hamas had meticulously planned everything for a long time, providing us with everything we required, even down to shampoo and conditioner.

The inefficiencies of the army and Shabak (Israel Security Agency - ISA) greatly impacted us; we were pawns in the government's game."

After this, Western media outlets, with CNN at the forefront, distorted Yohav's words and published that she said, "I went through hell."

BBC, on the other hand, released two versions of the statement.

They published the original statement by Yohav on their account dedicated to the Arab audience, while on their accounts for Western and Indian audiences, they published a manipulated version of her statement that included the same content as previously published by CNN.

These are the testimonies of two different women captives, both of whom unanimously agree that they were treated with excellent humane treatment, and no one tortured them or attempted to harass or disturb them.

On the other hand, both of them agree that Israel did not care about their safety in any way and, in fact, they would open fire in the presence of the hostages, leaving behind lifeless bodies hit by their deadly bullets.

Now, let's focus for a moment on the point of Israel and the prisoners.

Two days ago, Abu Ubaida, the official spokesman for the Al-Qassam Brigades, made a lengthy recorded speech in which he spoke about the prisoners.

He said:

"There have been numerous contacts in the prisoner file, and there was an opportunity to reach an agreement, but they delayed and did not show real seriousness in releasing the prisoners.

Instead, its barbaric shelling and continuous crimes have led to the killing of nearly fifty of them so far."

Do you understand now that Israel does not care about the prisoners at all, as it claims, and that their use of the prisoner issue is merely to prevent Elon Musk from providing internet access via Starlink in Gaza for its residents?

Remember to follow our Instagram account.

We regularly post a lot of content with fresh designs to reach a larger audience which you can easily share by posting it in your Instagram story, Facebook story, WhatsApp story or sending it to your friends through Direct Messages, we need all the support we can get.

[squinch-depraved]

priest schlatt I beg

we're not gonna talk about how long this took me to get to

happy national clergy appreciation day (in the u.s.) !! sorry if this sucks i was raised southern baptist and even then i sucked at christianity there's a reason i practice witchcraft now lol

hanging your head low as you ducked into the confessional wouldn't save you. sure, there was no one around to see you, but knowing that god had witnessed what you had done was reason enough to try and hide from the world as much as you could. but still you tucked yourself away into the corner of the booth, clutching your purse in your trembling hands.

religion was a something of a sore spot for you; growing up in a hyper-christian family was one way to ensure you didn't feel comfortable in a house of worship. you had always viewed god as an inevitable outcome, a fact that awaited you whenever you happened to reach the end of your journey here on earth. once you graduated high school and locked yourself into a four year program at a catholic college one state over, you came to realize that the reason you couldn't stand your religion wasn't because of overbearing relatives. no, it was the very idea of god himself. you found him sadistic, an egotistical prick who had nothing better to do than let horrible things happen to his creations. maybe it was true that most of the teachings you had heard were lost on you, that you didn't even make an effort to understand the lessons passed down for thousands of years. but so what? nobody had ever made an effort to understand you or what you were going through, why should you waste your energy extending that courtesy to a church that obviously didn't care about you?

but you know who did make you feel understood? the guys you had dated in the three years since you arrived at this prison. at least, for a few weeks, in the beginning. the first one was fine. he was the one who convinced you virginity was an outdated concept- which you still agreed with to this day, you decided. he was surprisingly "woke" about the whole religion thing, which was what drew you to him in the first place.

"my parents made me study here too," he sympathized. "i totally wish i could've gone on a mission trip instead of getting a degree. like, college will be here in a few years! those impoverished people might not, y'know? i just feel like god is totally calling me to go serve. like, 'troy, man, go feed those guys! tell them how cool i am!'" he stopped tossing a miniature foam basketball against your bedroom wall for a moment to look at you.

you smiled weakly at his sentiments and glanced up from your laptop to nod. "totally, troy."

turns out, (unsurprisingly) troy was a fucking douche. he stayed around just long enough to get into your pants a couple times, but then you caught him with the girl who lived in the dorm across from you, so he had to go. nobody ever found out who stole his clothes from the men's showers, but the videos of him streaking down the hallways while he ran to his room were sent around campus for months after that.

guys two and three were more painful than troy; you had actually grown attached to them. guy two lasted almost a year, and three was only a few months, but he felt special. and the half dozen guys you slept with while trying to get over them just added to the tally of sins you were keeping subconsciously.

so when your grades started to slip from depression in the winter of your junior year, and your counselor called you to her office for an appointment, it was no surprise that her words got under your skin as easily as they did. how could they not? getting students to go to church was part of her job. she was concerned that your grades were slipping because she hadn't seen you at mass in a long time, and the absence of the lord will do that to a young girl, you know.

so later that night, after drinking by yourself at a bar a few miles from the school, you stumbled into the church on campus and slunk into the confessional. realizing that the wooden box was incredibly uncomfortable, you winced and pulled off your heels, rubbing your feet gently as you waited to be listened to.

you shrieked quietly when a small lattice window on the wall next to you slid open. "oh, fuck... sorry! um, it's my turn, right?... yeah, i think so. okay, so, um. bless me father for i have... sinned? it's been, like," you paused as you counted back the time on your fingers. "almost two years since my last confession. oh, jeez, that makes me sound awful." you were hiccupping as you rambled, and you could have sworn you heard the faintest exhale of amusement if you weren't plastered.

"whatever, it's too late to stop now," you sighed, crossing your legs. "i let some guys sleep with me and now i'm all unpure and like. i'm supposed to show up here a couple times every week now but i don't wanna, i don't care enough about this whole god thing to waste the rest of my college life becoming a nun. i'm already worried i wasted three years coming here instead of a school where i could have felt like myself," you trailed off.

it was quiet for a moment before a gruff voice with a new york accent asked, "how many guys?"

you snorted. "9, i think," you said with a smirk, rolling your eyes.

the man on the other side of the panel felt his face heat up as he mumbled, "jesus." you couldn't hold in your laugh at how absurd this was. this was what you deserved for coming to confess at 2 in the morning.

"i know it's been a while since i've been here and all, but i'm pretty sure that's not what you're supposed to say," you giggled.

a chuckle was heard before he answered, "sorry. you're right, it's not. tell me more, what led you to sleeping with them?" at least now he was trying.

the two of you talked for about an hour, until it no longer felt like a confession and you were sure you had fallen for this priest you couldn't even see. eventually, he tried to dismiss you without giving you your penance, but something in your gut drove you to bring it up yourself.

he stepped out of the booth first, and you hesitated for a second before following him, freezing when you saw what he looked like. tall, scary, with gorgeous brown eyes framed by aviator glasses and fluffy chops adorning his cheeks. by some miracle, he also felt immobilized by his view of you hopping out of the wooden compartment- dress disheveled, fishnets ripped, heels in one hand and your purse slung over one shoulder. you were his worst nightmare, a temptation he simply could not resist. god had just placed a vulnerable young lamb like you in his midst; who was he to deny himself of the simple pleasures his lord had provided for him?

"father? father, my penance," you waved your hand in front of his face (after a bit of trying to get his attention), which had just gone dark. his eyes now looked hungry and cold.

"hmm?" he blinked and tilted his head towards you slightly. "oh. uhm," he let out a deep exhale, as if contemplating something. "y-y'know what? just come with me," he spoke gently, taking your hand and leading you to a back room with some spare furniture scattered about.

a part of you knew what was coming, and a different part of you never could have guessed the situation you were about to find yourself in. once you were alone in the room together, he pulled you close and pressed you against a wall, letting his hot breath waft over your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"god's telling me we should make it 10 men you've been with," he murmured, voice velvet smooth as it coated your eardrums. "so you can say at least one of them was a real man of the lord, hmm, doll?"

your breath, caught in your throat, sped up as he slowly, gently, tenderly took your wrists in one of his hands, bringing them to rest above your head. "father..."

"schlatt. my name's schlatt. but that's just a courtesy, hm? stick to callin' me father." you felt him smirk against your skin as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your neck, drawing out a frantic moan from you.

"careful with your noises, angel, there's two other guys here tonight, and if we get caught, i'm gonna have to share you," schlatt warned. he used his other free hand to pull down the top of your dress, smiling greedily at the sight of your exposed breasts. "no bra?"

"i-it didn't go with the outfit," you tried to defend yourself, but he just shushed you and fondled your chest lovingly, like he really was just appreciating one of god's creations. pathetic noises spilled from your lips as you watched him admire you, a hypnotized look on your face.

"you're so beautiful, doll. wha's your name?" he asked, glancing up at your face to meet your gaze.

you stammered out your response and he repeated it, running over the name in his mind.

"pretty," he said simply. "i'm gonna make you feel good now, okay?" it was more of a statement than a question, and you nodded with a gulp as he knelt down and slid his head under your dress. you felt your pupils dilate as you leaned your head back against the wall and let your eyes fall closed. schlatt ripped a bigger hole into your fishnets and pulled your skimpy panties to the side, licking a long stripe up your folds and tracing circles with his tongue on your clit. it was hard to keep your whorish noises contained, but clamping your hand over your mouth did a good enough job.

he ate you until you were frantically scratching at his head through the fabric of your dress as you came all over his face, sobbing from how good you felt. you didn't even know it was possible to feel this euphoric, but here this priest was to show you how. once he was satisfied, he pulled away from your cunt and rose to tower over you again. he reached into his robes and opened them enough so that his crotch was visible. you watched as he pulled out his length, stunned at the size of it, and let him pick you up and position you around his waist.

"father, i'm scared, i don't know if it's gonna fit," you admitted guiltily. schlatt locked eyes with you while he replied.

"it's okay to be scared. but you have to do it anyways." with that, he slid into you, stretching you out more than you ever had been before. you bit onto him in an effort to keep quiet; his robes did a good job of muffling the sound. after a generous amount of time to let you get used to him, he started moving.

he was gentle at first, but gradually got rougher and rougher. there wasn't a moment where he wasn't focused on making you feel good. his eyes pierced through you as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, and the attention he was giving you didn't make you feel objectified like it did when the other guys fucked you. it made you feel divine, ethereal almost.

grunts and pants, along with the occasional squeal, were all that could be heard as he rolled his hips into you time and time again. he coaxed another orgasm out of you just with his cock, and once he felt like he had pleasured you enough, he sped up, now thrusting at a frenzied pace.

"when i tell you, you're gonna get on your knees and take me in your mouth, okay angel?" he instructed, out of breath. you nodded, eager to please.

"yes, father," you gasped as he reached deeper and deeper inside you with every thrust. schlatt's eyes rolled back slightly at the title and he went impossibly faster for a few seconds before speaking.

"n-now! now!" he ordered desperately. he set you down hurriedly and you slammed down onto your knees to take him in your mouth, letting him burrow deep into your throat before he finished with a loud groan and grabbed your hair roughly.

he remained in your throat for a moment while he caught his breath, sliding out once his chest had stopped heaving.

"there's your penance, doll. i better see you here for a 2 a.m. confession next monday as well, yeah? i think that's what the lord's callin' me to do," schlatt said as he buttoned his robes. you straightened your clothes as much as you could and looked up at him sheepishly.

"looking forward to it. but, uh, is there a back door i could leave through? because i do not want to walk through the church like this." you gestured to your outfit, tattered and wrinkled, and winced.

he chuckled and nodded. "yeah, i'll show you to it. maybe it could be our secret entrance," he joked.

"oh, of course. i'll knock three times whenever i need to be let in," you retort with a grin.

maybe coming to church wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[piratefishmama]

Fake it Till you Make it | Part 16

Watching Eddie scope out his surroundings was… a sight to behold. He didn’t just walk from room to room like any normal person would, no, much like an adventurer, cautiously taking in their surroundings in a new place, in a new dungeon, stretching his neck to look around corners before stepping fully around them, gently touching walls to balance himself as he stretched.

Walking with his heel off the floor, quiet as a church mouse, going from room to room, appraising each one with varying sounds of approval while Steve watched in fond amusement.

It didn’t escape him, how lucky he was. How lucky he’d gotten, how rare it was for people like him, for people like Eddie, to feel comfortable enough to just be in a place that his parents also occupied. That running into his father on the second floor, midway through twirling Eddie from the master bedroom on one side of the hallway to the other where another door awaited his eager exploration, wouldn’t result in some kind of fight, that neither he, nor Eddie, had to hide who they were and what they were doing.

It didn’t escape him that he was lucky. Not just in the freedom he had either, but that he got to see Eddie comfortable. Got to see him light up like Christmas had come early, got to witness the exact moment downstairs when he’d relaxed in Steve’s space.

When he’d taken in all that stood before him and found comfort in it. Steve knew he was lucky that he got to see that. So he wasn’t about to take it for granted.

He wasn’t going to squander the opportunity to make the most of it. Of Eddie’s childish glee. Even if it was all based on a ruse. It was a mutual ruse. A ruse they were both aware of. There was no unfortunate reveal waiting at the end of the tunnel, no high school drama where some asshole pulled the wool from someone’s eyes to reveal none of it was real!!

He was going to make it as real as physically possible, and hopefully… just… continue. After the holiday. Maybe a conversation could happen to clear up any possible misunderstandings but… Steve wanted. He wanted the ultimate nerd currently scoping out the bedroom closest to the home theatre.

“We don’t want this one” Steve advised, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as Eddie poked the mattress with a single finger, as if that would accurately test the quality of the mattress, as he’d been doing for each room. “The home theatre doesn’t have proper sound proofing, if someone wants to watch a film later, we’ll be able to hear it through the walls.” It’d been a solid DIY job on his grandfathers part.

No professional involved, just ‘yeah I can do that, stand back Mags, let a man work’ and that was that. He'd even put it on the second floor, absolute madman.

Steve always pictured his grandmother just standing there, in the same pose he was currently standing in, watching with fond exasperation as her husband went to work on a project he was deeply inexperienced in, and completely unqualified to tackle.

The fact that it looked good in there was a miracle.

“Okay so, not this room, not the bunk bed room, and not the hot tub room, that leeeaves—”

“Master bedroom, or either of the two on the right side of the house.” The options were actually limited when other people were staying, if it were just him and Eddie they could have any room they wanted, but with his parents there it cut down the options.

“Tch, why’d you have me explore all of em then! We should probably just take the master bedroom, right? Since it’s apparently your house, oh great and powerful Master” Steve raised a brow as Eddie dipped into a low bow, theatrical as ever, his tone teasing, his hair bouncing around his face as he righted himself again. Cute.

“Hmm, you looked like you were having fun, you’re cute when you’re having fun.” And his cheeks coloured so nicely whenever he was complimented, hid behind his hair in a way that made Steve’s heart do a funny little flip flop, he’d file that information away for later, continuing on as if he hadn’t just dropped a flirty bomb on the other man “but you’re right, we should probably just take that one, it does have its own private deck…” oh the things they could do on that private deck. If it were all real. “Usually I let my parents have it buuut…” he had company this time. He’d have more than enough of an excuse to get the private deck, even if he wasn’t going to use it for anything other than relaxing. He had a reason to want a little privacy. “I’m sure they’ll understand us wanting it more.”

Eddie rolled with it, quickly recovering with the out Steve had created for himself, or maybe the guy was just so smooth he didn’t even realise he was flirting. That was definitely it. “Or they’ll think they understand us wanting it more” Eddie winked all conspiratorially, which only served to make Steve laugh leaving Eddie looking upon what he’d done in pride. He made Steve laugh. He did that. He’d done that a few times and honestly the high kept staying pretty fucking high.

How had he been so wrong about Steve for so goddamn long? How long had Steve been this glorious thing, like sunshine in human form?

“Exactly” Steve chuckled before pushing himself away from the doorframe “let’s go get our bags then, our shit wont unpack itself.”

“Actually could you get them? I… I should probably call Wayne, let him know I’m safe. It’s not too late there so he should still be home, is that okay? I don’t wanna leave it too late and have to go through reception at the plant, it’s… not great.” Nine times out of ten he wound up speaking to one of the three other Wayne’s working there.

“Yeah, there’s a private line in the room, you go ahead, I’ll grab the bags.”

“My Herculean hero” it wasn’t even remotely fair how badly Steve wanted to kiss him for how little he did to earn it.

“Yer very quiet, Ed, considerin you called me.” He’d gotten through to Wayne after three rings, reassuring him about his safety had been the first thing on the agenda as he got comfortable on the frankly unnecessarily large king sized bed, but then Steve returned to the room with their bags.

All of their bags. In one go, and Eddie’s brain kind of short circuited. “Huh?”

“Yer quiet, somethin the matter?”

“Steve is carrying everything all at once.” It earned a scoff from the man on the phone, and an amused smile from Steve. “It’s awfully distracting, I dunno what to tell you, Wayne I am very distracted.” Steve’s smile only widened

“Uh huh, well, I’ll let you get on then, gotta head out soon anyway, money ain’t gonna make itself. You sure everythin’s alright though? No red flags?”

“Nah… all green flags here, they’re… they’re nice, y’know?” He hadn’t expected it, so many stories of rich people being awful, but… they were just two extremely hard working people who’d had their hard work pay off. Even on holiday they were still working, it was both exhausting to watch, and deeply admirable. Eddie could never. “I’ll call you again tomorrow to check in.”

“I’ll be waitin. Be safe, son.”

“Say hi to Garfield for me” there was a short laugh on the other end, before the line cut off, leaving Eddie smiling as he put the phone down

“Who’s Garfield?” Steve asked, “other than the fat cat.”

“He’s the fat cat shaped mug I can no longer drink from after the great mug smashing of ’86. That stupid earthquake killed him, but we had superglue, so it was fine, just can’t drink out of him anymore cause he’s fragile.” No amount of superglue could fix the tiny areas they hadn’t been able to fill in with pieces, slivers of pot lost to the dark underside of the cabinets. “Need any help?”

“Nah, you just sit there an look pretty for me.” It had the desired effect, Eddie’s eyes widening, a pretty blush blossoming on his cheeks and the final kicker, he hid behind his hair. Adorable. Perfect. Beautiful. Had they actually been dating he’d have pressed pause on the unpacking, instead, he snipped that last thread holding Eddie’s composure in place with a smoothly delivered “just like that, yeah, God, you’re such a good boy.”

The consequences were immediate.

Part 18

[theshinazugawaslut]

Sanemi as a best friend who is obsessed with you, so when you tell him you've never ridden someone he offers to let you practice on him. On his face, abs, thigh, on anything that you can ride, he'll train you before you take his cock

a/n: sorry if this didn't come out good, I wrote it under a half-hour since I'm sick.

He's your best friend, the little boy you grew up with in the same neighbourhood — everyone knew the two of you were attached at the hip, everyone also knew that Sanemi would never let a single boy near you and so, no boy ever tried.

Your earliest memory of him is when you were both three years old, standing in a long queue on a hot Summer's day outside an ice-cream van in the park.

He had been right behind you, humming a tune, and you had turned around and said, "I love that song!"

The boy had the lovliest, archangel-white hair with the softest, lilac eyes; his cheeks all soft and squishy. He had smiled shyly and gave a small nod, though the two of you ended up holding hands as you took him to play in your sandpit.

Ever since, the two of you have been inseperable.

He always held your hand — tight, firm, like a kite he was afraid of letting go — and he looked at you like you had been weaved out of starsong and rose dew and the most honeyed siren song.

God, in his eyes you were this shimmering moon that he yearned to touch, you felt like what heaven must be like — he'd heard so many stories of heaven when he went to church with his mother, he imagined God had a face like you. There couldn't be anything else.

He was a sweet boy, you realised very quickly. Always helping you put pretty flower clips in your dishevelled hair, always using his own chubby hands to try and tuck your hair into a lopsided ponytail and smiled shyly as you squealed and squished your cheeks together to his.

He didn't mind being the subject of your childish eyeshadow palettes either, letting the cheap glittery gel being smudged across his eyelids though it did help him learn his own talent for eyeliner.

You're always over at his house or the other way around, too, and you're always making the loveliest drinks and snacks so you can watch Cinderella together, tiny hands weaved with his as you gush about how pretty the sapphire-blue ball gown is.

Soon enough, school starts, and Sanemi remains your best friend, sitting right next to you and saying no to playing football with the other boys in favour of reading a story book with you in the corner of the classroom.

You also witnessed him grab a boy bigger than him by the hair and hurting him because the boy had tripped you over and made fun of you in the playground where you had been awaiting for Sanemi.

Even when he'd gotten in trouble, he'd given you that smile that only got wider as you kissed his cheek.

He'd always been a serious child, a happy child but mature, and when he got a younger sibling, he was ecstatic, taking his newborn brother out his cot and running over to your house carelessly to show you Genya.

When his mother had rushed out in a panic a few hours later, she found you and Sanemi in your room, Genya bundled up safe and warm. The newborn safe in your arms as Sanemi snoozed against your shoulder, you looking at the newborn with bright eyes.

When Sanemi awoke later on, Genya now in his mother's arms, something inside of him stirred seeing you hold a baby with such care. He didn't know what.

Ever since he was a child, he'd give you flowers, braid your hair, kiss your cheek shyly when he was feeling very bold but one thing remained the same in highschool, that firm grip he had on your hands.

Everyone knew you two, nobody dared come near the either of you as Sanemi made it abundantly clear that his only interest was you and made it clear to everyone else - much to your obliviousness - that you did not need for friends and you especially did not want for any boys.

You never thought much of it.

You were more than happy being with him, cheerful nature and bubbly personality meaning you'd cling onto his arm anyway, doe-like eyes looking up at him as he kept an arm around your waist as he walked you from class to class.

You're bright, like the Sun, and he burns just looking at you, but for now, he's more than content helping you study for maths (you're hopeless) in the library, slipping you sweet treats every few minutes that make your eyes light up though his own shine brightly when you give him the after-school snack you baked for him in the morning.

You always give him so much — often making him bentos with all his favourite foods; spending time in his house to help take care of his six younger siblings whilst his mother worked — bathing his little sisters, changing his baby brother's nappy, singing songs and playing games with his siblings to keep them occupied so that Sanemi can finish his essays in peace, and you coming into his room after putting them all to bed, giving him dinner.

Though he rolls his eyes as he sees how you've made your notes all colourful and pretty.

"You're finding the equation of the tangent of the curve, you're supposed to do that by finding the y co-ordinate, differentiating it, calculating the gradient, and finding the equation of the line not... drawing flowers and galaxies on the page, doll," he says, exasperatedly fond.

"What's a y co-ordinate?" you ask innocently and he bangs his head against the table.

"How can you be good at fucking politics and biology and literature but be so utterly shit at maths?" he groans though you only look at him with that sweet expression of yours. "Hell, how are you good at Physics and not good at maths?"

"...I just copy your answers in Physics, and I only understand the theoretical stuff," you tell him and he glares at you, causing you to giggle. "I'm kidding! I sometimes copy your answers."

He flicks a sweetie wrapper at you then so you shriek as it touches your lashes. "You almost ruined my mascara!"

"You don't need it, anyway! Your natural lashes are like spiders anyway."

He snickers as you pull a strand of his snowy hair. "Sorry, dumpling," he says teasingly.

"You're the dumpling here! With your big, mochi cheeks!" you say with a huff.

"Next time when we go to the gym, I'm turning your treadmill to the highest speed," he threatens and you blanch, causing his laughter to grow louder.

Soon enough, you're both adults, sharing a dorm for university even though Sanemi was rather upset about having to leave his siblings and mother behind at home. Thankfully, you're adamant to keep in contact with his family which means an hour-long video call to his siblings and mother alongside your own family.

And even now, as you share a dorm for university, both wanting to become teachers, you're glued to the hip.

And now you're both twenty-one, still virgins, and you're currently cooking, calling for Sanemi who is lazily sitting on the couch, reading a book about teaching.

"'Nemi?" you say in that sweet voice of yours, calling for him as you cook something — usually Sanemi would cook but you wanted to try out a recipe this time yourself.

He puts his book down, taking a moment to come into the kitchen, thinking you had probably burned something though he's pleasantly surprised to find that's not the case though he tries to not let his jaw drop at the sight of you.

Pale-pink off shoulder top showing him just your left shoulder, all smooth and pretty, and your apple-green, pleated skirt had you looking so girlish.

"Hmm?" he says, deep voice all thrumming and rich, like smoked apples and wind-swept ash. "Oi, if you're cooking, you should do your hair back, do you want to be set on fire?"

With the words, he's already come behind you to start doing your hair in a loose braid — you're used to it; he always does your hair, helps with your make-up, most of the time he'll blow dry your hair as you study.

"What's it you called me here for? Ya missed me?" he asks behind you.

"I was just wondering," you begin. "But how come I've not had a boyfriend yet? You've not had a girlfriend either, ever... Mitsuri's dating Obanai; Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma are all with Tengen... And- and Shinobu's been seeing that Tamayo. Even my little sister has a boyfriend and I don't..."

Sanemi has frozen up behind you before he continues finishing the braid. "Why are you thinking about this?"

"I wanna love someone, too!" you tell him. "I wanna be loved! Is that so bad? I've never had a single man ever like me. I've never even kissed someone, how am I supposed to even have sex when the day comes? I have no experience and-"

"-You're seriously thinking about sex?" he interrupts, voice a little cold.

"Well, yes, I want a lover, too, and I have no practise! I know you don't either so it's not like you could actually help-"

"-I could," he whispers, mouth suddenly grazing your ear. "It'd be nice, no? Learning with me? We could learn together, it'd be fun." You don't have to look to know his eyes are hot and intense and bloodshot, that rabid grin on his face. "I'll be good to you. I'll help you learn whatever you want, hmm?"

You've entirely stiffened up, pretty eyes blown wide. It's no secret you're head over heels for the man but you didn't think...

"I'll let you think about it," says Sanemi, leaving a wet kiss on your jugular that makes you shiver, and he leaves the kitchen to finish his studying.

Though it takes only till night-time for you to agree and Sanemi gives you that tender smile of his, gently taking your hand and guiding you to his room.

"I knew you'd agree, since you're just the best," he laughs gently as he sits you down on the soft mattress, reaching over to brush some hair from your face. "My darling girl..."

You hadn't known Sanemi could look so sweet, so ravenous; his hunger a bottomless abyss, his love an endless well. He thumbs at your lips.

"Though I'm worried," he croons, suddenly gripping your jaw and making you face him. "You're such a delicate thing, you won't be able to take my cock so quickly. Tch, what a shame."

Your eyes are doe-wide now, blood rushing across your cheeks and making your cunt hot — you've never felt like this in your life. Sanemi... you hadn't expected him to be so filthy with his words immediately.

"That's fine though, I'll help you," he says with a sweet smile, as if sin wasn't clouding his eyes. He leans forward and he looks at you tenderly before capturing your lips with his; it's shy and a little awkward but god, Sanemi is desperate, grabbing your face as he peppers wet, feverish kisses against your lips. Taking your first kiss, your second, third, fourth, fifth...

You don't even realise he's deftly taken off your shirt and unclipped your red, lace bra, allowing your breasts to come spilling out and you whine, shy, trying to cover them up in the eyes of your best friend who only grins but removes your hands gently.

"No, no... You can't be doing that," laughs Sanemi. "I like'em, they're pretty, though that's only expected."

He takes your small hands and covers them with his larger, rough ones. He brings your fingers closer to his shirt, urging you to unbutton them with your own fragile fingertips, grinning as you starts kissing his chest with unsure, intoxicating lips that cause him to moan softly as you take off his shirt.

"So pretty," he coos, rubbing the base of your head as you kiss all the way down to his abdomen. "So good to me, always giving me the best gifts."

"'Nemi, I... 'm scared," you whispers against his skin and the rough pad of his thumb strokes the shape of your brow.

"So am I," he says softly, in that sincere tone you've known since you were young and he gently lifts you up so you're eye level as you both kneel on his bed. He holds your face like it's the moon. "But I trust you, and you trust me, right?"

You nod in his hands and he grins. "Atta girl." Then he's kissing you, languid and slow, keeping a hand on the back of your head so that you can't pull back. His other hand reaches for one of yours as you kiss him, lacing them together, teeth grazing your jaw momentarily as your free hand comes to drag nails against his skin.

Between those slow, sweet kisses from your best friend, you find that he looks so sweet with his wintry, moon-kissed hair from the dim light of your unconcealed window. He freezes, looking at you as though you were radiance, as you trace a finger from his strong forehead to his stronger nose — silvery scars almost glowing under the light as large hands made you shiver as he cupped your breasts, making you whimper under the searing heat of his hands.

Your delicate finger traces down the hollow of his throat and Sanemi's restraint begins to wave, his desire increasing tenfold.

You've been driving him crazy with want since the day he met you at that god forsaken ice-cream truck. His voice comes out rich and dark and thick with insanity, "You are sure about this? I do not want... God, I don't want you to regret this. We will only go as far as you please, only do whatever you want, I swear it."

You give an eager nod and he plants a chaste, lingering kiss against your mouth. You're not stupid, you know this isn't just 'practise', you know so badly what it really is. He loves you, too.

"'Nemi, please, touch me," you whisper.

"Okay, okay," he says with the lilt of murmuring brooks as he puts his svelte lips on your hair once, then twice, before move down to touch your soft stomach, tracing a line down to your belly button as he nips at your hips causing you to let out stuttered, breathy moans of his name.

"Nngh- 'N-Nemi," you say between choked breaths as his finger press against your lower back, almost moulding dimples into it.

"I know, baby, god, I know," he whispers, kissing directly above your womb, and it sends liquid lava — coarse and hot — through your veins, making you gut twist with pleasure. "We'll like this, I promise..."

He presses shaky fingers against your hips and you finally notice that dark, crazed glint in his eyes.

"'M gonna fuck you nice and good, 'm gonna fuck you full, you hear me?" Before you can even answer, he's ripping at your skirt and underwear, chucking them to the side. "I've gotta prep you first though."

You whine at the words, trying to grab at his erection though he stops you with three fingers — catching your wrist. "'Nemi, I- I don't need to be prepped."

"Sweet thing, you gotta be prepped," he says, and he gives you a dry, teasing smile, "I wouldn't be a good friend if I just shoved my cock inside you, dry and raw."

"What're you gonna do?" you ask through short, choppy breaths and he chuckles.

"Let's see..." he says, almost playful but he gives your nipple a sudden squeeze that causes you to jolt in his arms.

He's quick to lie down on the bed, still clothed by his bottom half, and he has you right against his rocky abdomen that is all smooth, supple skin and ridged muscle.

"Ride me," he says, one hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles against the plump flesh. "Move your hips for me, my girl."

You place your delicate hands on his hardened chest, rippling scars flexing as you begin to shyly move your cunt against him. He hisses softly, cursing under his breath, vulgarities spilling like prayers from his mouth.

"You pretty thing," he whines, holding the sweet fat of your hip in his large hand, guiding you back and forth on his body — he wants to be used like a fucking toy, he doesn't give a shit, it's you for god's sake, you're all he's ever wanted.

His thumb tries to search for that sweet pearl between your legs, he almost panics that he might embarrass himself but you cry out as he brushes a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves. He grins.

"There, baby?" he asks as he begins to swipe at your clit as you ride his abs. Your toes are curling into the sheet as you hump desperately against him, crying out as you feel his bulge nudge against your rear as you move back and forth, nodding deliriously to his question, tears leaking like falling stars out your eyes.

Though it's his fingers that have you coming undone as you squirt over his body deliciously, nectar coating his body like a divine sheet.

You don't even have the chance to recover as he grabs both your hips and lifts you onto his face, you squeal and try to scurry off but his strong, veined arms keep you clamped onto his face.

"Fucking sit," he sneers and you whimper, the sound making Sanemi drunk.

You feel something hot and wet flatten against your folds, his tongue silky and burning as he drags it up and down, inhaling like a man starved. "Always wan'ed to try this," he murmurs into your gorgeous pussy as he laps at it and you let out a high keen.

The sound seems reverberate in his lungs. You're all he fucking needs, wants.

You, and this sweet pussy of yours that's suffocating him in the most sweetest way possible, your hips bucking against him.

"Nngh-! O- oh god, 'Nemi," you cry out, trying to hold onto something as he keeps you firmly planted right atop his pretty face as your juices smear across his jaw and plump lips.

He's practically set you alight and crying with his tongue prodding inside your fluttering cunt, tasting you, nose bumping your gushy clit.

"You're so sweet," he groans against your pussy; the tender, pink muscle of his tongue hard at work as he made you see stars. All that left your panting mouth was feverish cries of his name to the point it was more like you were blabbering random syllables.

When you release onto his tongue, he doesn't waste a single drop — teeth almost gnashing at your cunt in his desperation to have it all inside him.

He gets you off his face and simply kisses you, nice and long, you desperately panting into his mouth, tasting your own nectar on his tongue but he just kisses you like a man starved.

"Baby," he whispers as he kisses the fat of your cheek, suckles on it a little before moving to that lovely curve of your jaw. "Wanna fuck you on my finger, my thighs-" He can barely breathe- "Wanna do it all but let me fuck you full first, hmm? We've practised enough for now, yeah?"

And you're quick to nod along to his frenzied words, causing him to lay you down, kissing your neck sweetly before kneeling on the bed to kick off his boxers.

His cock is a pretty thing ― thick, pale; strong veins across the shaft, an angry, throbbing tip. At least seven inches or so, pearls of precum falling down as he holds it.

"You... Are you ready?" he asks gently. "We can stop now if you want, I don't mind, dumpling."

You freeze, tears welling your eyes. God, you really do love him. Dumpling. Even after all this frantic lust, he looked at you like you were his world, his best friend.

He smiles against your mouth when you kiss him and he keeps at it as he slowly pushes his bulbous head through that first tight ring of muscle that has you crying into his mouth.

"You're doing so well, my sweet girl," he hisses through his teeth as he kisses your neck, pushing in inch-by-inch, all slow and languid in hopes to avoid hurting you but he was inexperienced man, he couldn't help but thrust himself all the way in when he felt you squeeze him so tight.

"See, look, such a good girl, took all of me," he groans, smiling down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

He begins to drag his cock out and then in, soon enough slamming into you over and over and over as you cry out, toes curling. He holds one of your hands with his, fingers interlacing as he cries out into your neck, too, your body causing every primal instinct in him to become this burning thing.

"F- fuck, y-you think 'm gonna let you- let you go to anyone else after this?" he says as he holds your waist to slam your cunt back into him with force, causing you to let out loud gasps as you keened his name. "You're fuckin' wrong. I'll be the only one to- to see you like this."

He knows he's muttering nonsense but you're so damn pretty as you come undone around his cock, squirting against his abdomen a second time and he's sobbing softly as he cums for the very first time right inside your gummy walls.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries and he starts peppering kisses all over your face. "I love you, I love you, I love you, ever since we were fucking kids, I love you."

He collapses next to you on the pillow, kissing your forehead a last time. "Thank you, baby," he murmurs.

As you catch your breath, Sanemi suddenly asks, "So... when should we get married?"

The question would shock anyone else but you're cute as always.

"I always wanted a Winter wedding!"

[mavrintarou]

[1:39PM] Kita Shinsuke

It's my (our) man's birthday! Of course, I couldn't forget his birthday. I don't think I can write a non-smut fic for him at all. Or more like... a non-breeding fic. This man just reeks of breeding kink, convince me otherwise. Oh and this is my first Soulmate au

Warning: 18+ let us just leave it at that (if you have been following me this long you know I rarely ever right sfw stuff...); older Shinsuke; as mentioned, soulmate au . Soulmates operated in a rather amusing manner and had a peculiar way of working. By purposefully parting a couple destined to be together and presenting them with formidable obstacles, no matter the cost or the duration, they would invariably defy the odds and ultimately find their way back to one another.

As soon as an individual reaches the age of seventeen, akin to the legendary red string of fate, the initials of their soulmate will manifest in red on their left pinky fingers. Once the pair entwines their pinkies, their initials will vanish, symbolizing the fulfillment of their destined connection.

While a few are fortunate enough to find their soulmates nearby, others must search the world to seek their destined partners.

Kita Shinsuke, at the age of thirty-three, has not found his soulmate. Each day, he is greeted by the persistent sight of red initials, serving as a reminder that his destined partner is still out there, perhaps patiently awaiting his arrival or diligently searching for their connection.

After his grandmother’s death a few months ago, he finally opened the letter she left behind.

My dearest Shin-boy,

By the time you read this, I will no longer be on Earth with you.

My kind-hearted boy, please go and search for your soulmate. Find them and do not waste any more time. I promise I will be at peace.

Love,

Your granny

It wasn’t that Shinsuke didn’t make an effort to find his soulmate. He firmly believed that their destined connection would eventually manifest, but he had limited time left with his grandmother and wanted to ensure she had the best life possible before he embarked on a lifelong journey with his soulmate. He trusted his soulmate would understand and empathize with the priority he placed on his grandmother’s well-being.

He cast a glance at his pinky, their initials glaring at him as if he kept them waiting for over sixteen years.

Shinsuke chuckled softly, speaking to himself, “I’m on my way, I’m on my way to you. Just hold on a little while longer.”

. .

As the gentle music played through the church, signaling the commencement of the wedding ceremony, Shinsuke turned his gaze. His cousin Tenkin, who shared a similar journey, had found his soulmate in his thirties, despite the challenges they faced along the way. And now, it was Shinsuke’s moment, his turn to find his soulmate.

Observing his cousin standing at the altar, eagerly awaiting his bride’s arrival, Shinsuke finally noticed the uncanny resemblance. Being born just weeks apart, with their fathers as brothers, it was clear why many considered them to be almost like twins, with Shinsuke being the elder of the two.

One by one, each bridesmaid walked down and stood in their position.

In the blink of an eye, the small smile on Shinsuke’s face vanished, replaced by a sudden jolt in his chest that felt like a punch to the heart. His right hand instinctively pressed against the racing heart, feeling its profound beats pulsating beneath his palm. Meanwhile, an aching sensation emanated from his left pinky, prompting him to turn his palm upward and witness the radiant glow of his soulmate’s initials.

He turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the final bridesmaid making her way down the aisle.

As the world around them faded into a blur, his focus narrowed solely on her. In that moment, she became everything he could see, the embodiment of his desires. She was undeniably the one – the soulmate. His soulmate.

. .

Y/n’s grip tightened on her left hand, attempting to shake off the persistent tingle that pulsated in her left pinky.

Her soulmate’s initial glowed and her heart has been racing nonstop at the mere thought of, they’re here, my soulmate is here amongst the crowd at Tenkin and Jessica’s wedding.

As she gracefully walked down the aisle, her heart started pounding, not from nervousness, but from a deep instinct that whispered her soulmate was seated among the pews, awaiting her arrival.

Maintaining her composure and pace as they had rehearsed, she reached a specific area, only to feel her heart racing and a tingling sensation coursing through her pinky beneath her pristine white gloves. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed a head turning, and her knees nearly buckled in response.

When she made it to the altar and stood beside the rest of the bridesmaids, her eyes immediately fell upon a pair that was looking directly at her.

There was no mistaking that he felt it as well, that he was her soulmate.

“You okay, Y/n?” Victoria, the other bridesmaid ask, noticing how quiet she was when they found their seating at the reception dinner.

Y/n looked up and quickly nodded and smiled, “yes, it’s been a long day and the wine isn’t helping – just making me tired.”

“That means you need to dance then!” Jessica grabbed her wrist, tugging her up from her seat and to the dance floor. “Dance off the tiredness, the night is still young!”

Despite having a glass of wine, Y/n remained sober, which was unusual for her since typically even a single glass was enough to make her feel slightly tipsy. As she swayed on the dance floor with the bridesmaids, her eyes meticulously scanned the crowd, yet she couldn’t catch a glimpse of those unique eyes or the silver hair that closely resembled Tenkin’s. It made her wonder if they were related.

Another thought crossed her mind, perhaps he left? She allowed herself a moment of relaxation, releasing the tension that had built up.

The music transitioned to a slow melody, and a flurry of couples hurried onto the dance floor to partake in a waltz.

Y/n glanced at the girls, ready to join them in leaving the dance floor, when she noticed their penetrating gaze fixed upon her. A slight frown formed on her face as she struggled to decipher their expressions. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Jessica swiftly grasped Y/n’s wrists, twirling her around, causing her breath to hitch in surprise. It was then that she realized the man she had been looking for was standing behind her all along. “Shinsuke, this is Y/l/n Y/n,” Jessica hurriedly introduced, “Y/n, meet Tenkin’s cousin, Kita Shinsuke.”

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, no doubt that he was her soulmate. His name matched the initials that is throbbing on her finger. “Shinsuke, would you like to dance with her?” Jessica added, squeezing Y/n’s shoulders in excitement.

Y/n hastily attempted to mutter an excuse but Shinsuke confidently stepped forward, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he extended his left hand. “I would be delighted to dance with you, Y/n,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.

Y/n groaned as she could feel the girls quickly fixing her hair, and smoothing her dress. Jessica reaches to pull off her gloves, “you don’t need to wear these anymore.”

Y/n’s fists quickly clenched preventing her from taking them off. “No – my – my hands are cold.”

They frowned but nodded their head, not wasting a second longer. “Enjoy your dance!”

Y/n locked eyes with Shinsuke, letting out a shaky breath before placing her gloved left hand in his. Immediately, her heart raced faster than before and her hand zapped as if she was shocked by electricity.

Shinsuke’s hand closed around her small ones and gripped it tightly, pulling her closer and placing her hand on his shoulders. “Thank you, for sharing a dance with me,” he murmured,  he pulled her close, “is this okay?”

Y/n looked away, blushing profusely under his gaze. “Yes,” she murmured. She could not hear the music yet her body swayed with his lead. Her ears feel hot as it rang with how loud her heart was beating against her chest. His touch felt hot yet cool against hers and she yearned for more.

“Y/n.”

She hummed and looked up, catching his eyes, and noticing how they glowed at her.

“Do you feel it?” He whispered, his words resonating loud and clear as if they were meant only for her to hear.

She nodded her head, biting her lip, not trusting her voice at that moment.

A smile spread across his face, revealing a single dimple on his right cheek. “I feel it too,” he whispered, leaning in gradually until their foreheads gently touched. It was a simple yet intimate gesture between the two individuals who had just met but felt as though they had known each other for a lifetime.

To any onlooker, it would be evident that these two were soulmates. The intensity of their gaze and the effortless grace with which they waltz spoke volumes as if their souls have finally reunited in perfect harmony.

Once the music ended, her heart dropped slightly, her mind racing with what do we do now?

Shinsuke held onto her hand, a silent acknowledgment of the shared connection they both felt. “Will you come with me? Please?” he asked, his voice filled with earnestness.

Without a moment of hesitation, she nodded in agreement as he guide them away from the dance floor.

He guides them to an empty bench out on the garden terrace. He immediately shrugged off his suit jacket, placing it around her shoulders. “Please, have a seat.”

Y/n blushed under his gaze, God, he’s so handsome.

A gentle chuckle escaped Shinsuke’s lips as he gracefully lowered himself to one knee, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. He reached out for her gloved left hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “May I… remove it?” he asked, his voice filled with warmth and anticipation.

“Yes,” she whispered. A smile adorned his face, revealing both of his dimples and Y/n’s head tilt back as she lets out a groan, exclaiming, “you’re absolutely torturing me with your dimples.”

Shinsuke made a mental note of her weakness against his dimples, etching it into his memory. With a swift motion, he gently removed her glove and turned her palm upward, his gaze fixated on the initials engraved on her pinky.

His initials.

KS

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he locked eyes with her before glancing down at her soulmate mark. His thumb tenderly brushed over it, and this time, instead of tingling or jolts, a sense of calmness, warmth, and peace washed over him. Shinsuke’s breath trembled as he lift his left pinky, revealing his own soulmate mark – the initials that belong to her.

Y/n blinked, fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes. She reached out and tenderly touched his mark, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips. “It took us sixteen years, but we finally found each other,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotions. “I shouldn’t complain,” she murmured, holding his hand, “some people wait an eternity to meet their soulmate. Sixteen years may have felt long, but what truly matters is that we found each other.” With determination in her eyes, she raised her pinky, a symbolic gesture. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” she declared, her words filled with a sense of urgency and desire to embrace their newfound connection.

“Me too,” Shinsuke whispered, linking his pinky with hers.

. .

The ring on Y/n’s finger shimmered, catching the light with a radiant sparkle. Just a few weeks after their fateful encounter, Y/n and Shinsuke exchanged vows in a small and intimate wedding ceremony. It was customary for soulmates to marry soon after finding each other, and both Shinsuke and Y/n were eager to seize the opportunity and avoid any further separation. Time was too precious to waste.

Stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, Shinsuke’s eyes widened as the dimly lit bedroom was suddenly brightened, illuminated by the flickering candles on the cake being carried by Y/n. After a tiring day out in the field, he indulged in a long shower, craving the comfort of his home and spending the rest of his day with his wife.  

“Happy birthday Shinsuke!”

He couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated his birthday with a cake and candles.

“Make a wish, Shin,” Y/n whispered, eyes gleaming with love.

He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and blowing out the candles. Shinsuke takes the cake out of her hands and set it on their dresser before approaching her.

Y/n gazed into his eyes and immediately recognized the familiar look within them. Y/n discovered that Shinsuke wasn’t as sociable as Tenkin, but he spoke through his silence, specifically through his eyes.

As he was at the moment.

She lets out a hesitant laugh, knowing what is about to come with those dark and dilated eyes. They are illuminated with passion and love. Love just for her. Y/n backed up until her back was pressed against the wall and Shinsuke reached out to grasp her hips, pressing himself against her. “Shin…” she half moaned and gasped when his towel dropped from his waist, allowing her to feel his erect bulge pressing against her.

His fingers slowly began bunching up her nightgown from below the waist. “Y/n,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, his voice barely audible, “I’ve made a wish…”

Y/n feels his fingers rubbing between her legs, she can feel his smile against her cheek as he discovers she wore no panties underneath. It has become futile wearing panties when he was just going to throw them at the end of the bed. “Y – yes and…”

“And are you going to make my wish come true?”

“If I can…”

“Oh, I know you can…” Shinsuke hooked an arm underneath one knee, hiking her leg around his hip. He rubs his cock along her pussy and she can feel his precum smearing along her slit. “Will you let me make love to you without a condom?”

Y/n trails her hands up and along his muscular tanned arms until she can cup his face, pulling his head down for a kiss. “It’s your birthday, my body, heart, and soul is yours, do as your please.”

With her permission, Shinsuke thrust inside her, feeling the complete rawness of skin-to-skin contact. “Fuck, you’re so tight… how are you so tight when we make love practically every night?”

Y/n kissed him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and lifting herself to wrap both her legs around his waist. Shinsuke easily held her, slowly creating a pace and savoring the euphoric bliss. “Can we throw away the condoms? I don’t think I can… go back to using them.”

“Do you want to make a baby, Shin?” Y/n rolled her hips, meeting his thrusts. “We will make a baby at the rate we are going if we don’t use condoms anymore.” She runs her finger through his hair, “you can’t get enough of me just as I can’t get enough of you…”

His breath is heavy as he contemplates her question, “I wanna have more time with you before we have kids,” he whispered against her lips, “we have only just found each other and we still have time before we start making babies.”

Y/n hummed, agreeing. “Babies?”

Shinsuke shifted her against the wall and began to fasten his thrusts. “Of course… babies… as many babies.”

Their bedroom began resonating with their moans and the sound of skin on skin.

“Shin,” Y/n moaned, “I’m – I’m ovulating – it may not be the best time to cum inside of me.” His hips only seemed to increase with deeper and harder penetration. “Shin… Shin – oh… I’m so…”

His grip on her thighs tighten as he came inside of her, and the thoughts of Y/n ovulating and him cumming inside of her fertile womb tipped him over the edge. Forget his words moments ago about waiting on making babies. “Let’s make a baby now…”

Y/n’s laugh echoed throughout their room as she unwrapped her legs from around his waist, Shinsuke assisted by gently helping her back on her feet. “There’s a high chance we just made one now.” She leaned herself onto the tip of her toes to press her lips against his, for a soft kiss. “But I would love to make a baby with you.”

“Babies,” he corrected, pecking her lips and walking backward, and pulling her along as they both fall onto their bed. “I want babies with you.”

. . .

E/n: I swear, he's just the sweetest man in my head. Now back to editing my other works... or creating new stuff...

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[thatchickwiththecamera]

If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.  

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway. 

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour. 

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history. 

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording. 

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.” 

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker. 

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker. 

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own. 

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions. 

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical. 

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport. 

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle. 

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe. 

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it. 

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.” 

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate. 

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.” 

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.” 

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew. 

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out. 

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate. 

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a  bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know. 

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral. 

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed. 

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand. 

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door. 

Y/N ran. 

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass. 

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well. 

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders. 

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran. 

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone. 

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop. 

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone. 

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run. 

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone. 

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came. 

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest. 

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home. 

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church. 

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service. 

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.” 

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years. 

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again. 

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal. 

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.

[mangionebabymama]

Hear me out that Luigi doesn’t want a big Italian wedding. You two are on a trip somewhere and decide to elope. You want to spend any extra money on traveling, so there’s no better situation. You just care about each other. You share your vows either in nature somewhere or in a little church and it’s just perfect. I picture it happening in Ireland or Greece or something haha

All of this. In fact, @mrsmangi wrote a very beautiful drabble titled Fries & Milkshakes, based on a collection of requests inspired by flowers that you can read here, which similarly describes a circumstance like this.

A big Italian wedding would be the complete opposite of what he’d want. Besides, you really wouldn’t have even the slightest idea of you would possibly want for a wedding, so his adamant choice for nothing outwardly extravagant and extraordinary would answer your question of what you’d want, too. As long as you’re there, and he’s there, it’s settled, as it’s going to be you and him, together, forever. It’ll happen at a time when you’re together somewhere that only the two you’ll remember, and it’s made for the two of you to cherish with one another.

It’s not about what you do in declaring your matrimony, but how you declare it and what it means for you. If you were at a little church and it was just the clergy person officiating, and maybe another a person or two that would happen to be inside the church that would witness you two getting married and celebrating you two 🥺 or if it was outside, perhaps even at night, as you could stargaze afterwards of officially pronouncing each other as married people and realize what new beginnings await for you two

[bullet-prooflove]

New Characters Added:

Nandor The Relentless - What We Do In The Shadows

Clint Barton - Avengers

New Fics This Week:

911:

Bang - Eddie's new year starts with a bang.

Chicago Fire:

Crisis Point - Sam begs you to get the surgery you need.

Chicago Med:

Misbehaving (NSFW) - Dean takes care of you when things get too much.

Divine Intervention - You and Dean celebrate the new year after your accident in the morgue.

Bad Day - Dean's having a really bad day.

Scar Tissue - You're very shy when it comes to your scars.

Fireworks - Sean and you watch the fireworks with Benji.

Cherry (NSFW) - You give Mitch a special gift.

Blunt Force Trauma - You're still dealing with the trauma of the car accident.

Cobra Kai:

Fireworks - Terry and you watch the fireworks over Sydney.

Like A Sinner In Church (NSFW) - Terry gets bored during a friend's wedding.

FBI:

Tease (NSFW) - You make Omar come in his pants.

FBI International:

Broken - Wes doesn't think you're broken.

Justifed:

A Ramblin’ Man - Tim makes you a promise about the future.

A Patient Man - Tim awaits news on your condition.

Law & Order:

One Hour - Jalen supports you during your first therapy session.

Law & Order SVU:

Rumours - You hear a rumour about Joe.

Marvel:

Rumours - Sometimes rumours aren’t just rumours. (Logan)

Love Bites - Logan's healing factor can sometimes be a curse.

Marks (NSFW) - Years ago Clint Barton made his mark on you, he wants you to admit why you returned the favour.

NCIS:

Guilt - Alden realises he needs to confront his guilt.

Silent Witness:

Shot In The Dark - Jack's life flashes before his eyes when he's faced with an active shooter.

Tulsa King:

Happy Ending - You and Goodie finally get your happy ending.

Love Letters - Mitch finds the love letters he used to send you.

What We Do In The Shadows:

Just A Phase - Laslo says it's just a phase but Nandor knows different.

Yellowstone:

Perfect - Rip wants everything to be perfect as he looks towards the future.

[projectreclaim]

Jake Lang - January 6 Political Prisoner:

3 WEEKS FROM TODAY I'M WALKING OUT OF THE DEMOCRATS POLITICAL PRISON FOREVER!!! PRAISE GOD!!! Freedom is becoming so REAL for me I can TASTE IT!! The anticipation is truly mind blowing... ALL THE JANUARY 6 HOSTAGES ARE ABOUT TO BE RELEASED INTO THE WILD!!! In just 3 short weeks, on January 20th 2025, the world is going to witness a NELSON MANDELA moment of liberation for the 1572+ January 6 American Political Prisoners!!

Officially marking the END of the tyrannical era of Democrat Deepstate corruption & persecution in the USA For 1440 days I have been crammed in a decrepit 8x10 ft prison cell, surviving inhumane torture, and YEARS of solitary confinement, awaiting a miracle of God That day is FINALLY about to arrive and my soul cries out to Jesus Christ my Savior, and Trump my President!!

Many people ask me what I am about to do with my new found freedom - any the answer is clear as day to me: The world NEEDS TO KNOW the God who sustained me, protected me, loved me when I was alone in a dark dungeon, wiped the tears from my eyes many nights, called me His child, and broke these shackles from my feet

The LORD God who still delivers His people The J6 liberated hostages will be announcing our TRUE FREEDOM National Church Tour!! The 6 MONTH TOUR across America; where we will be speaking at hundreds of Churches and community centers, even PACKED STADIUMS and highschool gymnasiums - about the POWER of FAITH in Jesus that can bring the DEAD BACK TO LIFE!!!

He who lives in me is GREATER than he who lives in the world!!! I'm so ready to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!!!!

[creatorofarcadia]

I just finished Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield and it was wonderful. Definitely recommend, especially if you're a fan of the magnus archives.

Spoilers/theories:

I don't know about anyone else, but as a fan of call of cthulhu I can't see 'the centre' as anything other than a cult for the creature, similar to the cult that forms around cthulhu. The biggest indicator of this for me is the insignia for the centre - an eye. I can't see this corresponding to the creatures primary feature being a coincidence. To me the eye insignia has the same air as a religious symbol. The centre already knows what awaits the submarine when it sends them down - meaning this expedition might not be the first.

I also think the centre being a cult makes more sense in terms of Leah's release. If you're a research centre, dedicated to knowledge without moral concerns, why let Leah leave quarantine rather than observe her metamorphosis? They could have told Mirri nothing and kept Leah for months rather than risk missing anything. However, if these passangers aren't lab rats but sacrifices to a god, you don't need to keep her, you know her fate is sealed. She has been made a follower against her will - destined to become part of your gods domain.

The last thing that makes me view them as a kind of cult is this quote from the get together before the expedition:

During the toasts, I saw several people from the Centre standing with hands clasped in front of them or under their chins, the way you might expect to witness at a church event.

Anyway I'm kind of obsessed with this book if you couldn't tell.

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: A Sanguinala, Cardrean Penal Legion style.

Genre: Drama/fluff/wholesome/angst/Romantic tension/Bit of smut

TW: Foul language, blood, angst, wholesome, bittersweet, smut

Pairing: Commissar Gallius x Dormath(?) and Cardrean Penal Regiment (found family dynamic)

Note: I well try to cram some holidays special for my lovelies, pray Santa gifts me with writer inspiration

Goblin tag squad: @meervalv0 @echo-of-damnation @artemisareia

@finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock

@druidwolf21

Drunken monologues

The commissar exhaled exasperatedly at the impatience of his troops, they hadn't waited for even the slightest order before the shuttles had opened and Cardrean had welcomed it's lost sons and daughters back just in time for Sanguinala. Days of coordination and orderly practices for that anxiously awaited moment had been thrown out of the window as soon as the regiment guardsmen had seen a fraction of their homes and Hive cities. No threat or yelled orders could had ever deterred their hearts and minds from disconnecting completely from their usual otherwise obedient forms.

Dormath, who had been standing by the sidelines with the widest shit-eating grin on his face, made his best attempts to calm his superior down, reminding him of the fact most of those guardsmen had barely touched their native planet in over a decade or more, like him; if Gallius had gotten over their fights and discussions over the most inconsequential things, he could more than well cut them some slack for behaving the way they had done as soon as they disembarked. In addition, just to throw more persuasion over at Gallius, the second in command reassured his superior that he would personally oversee the troops to reunite in a spot of the city they wouldn't turn into a mess once they left the planet and a cozy place to keep everyone in, reducing the chances some High Axe would randomly get in trouble at the other side of the Hive World with no possibility for Gallius to convince local Arbites to not shoot the Axe on sight. Groaning at how keen Dormath had used his words, Gallius made the commander swear three times upon his honor and his family's name that everything would go exactly as Dormath had told him; sighing and chuckling, the Cardrean made all the swears and promises, even offering his badges as a token of confidence in case Gallius needed more reassurance and then; with one slip of the finger an a salute, Dormath disappeared between the crowd of people passing all over the ship bay.

After saying a temporary farewell, Gallius went on foot to the only church in Cardrean, a semi-destroyed structure, corroded by years of constant shootouts happening all around and inside of it, there were some holes on the walls being worked on by servitors at the moment the commissar entered the holy building, the air smelled of gun smoke and the distinctive aroma of disintegrated flesh product of plasma shots, a mixture of odors far too familiar for the officer who paid no mind to it. At the feet of one of the shrines dedicated to Yumer Ishmel, the best Planetary Governor Cardrean had ever witnessed, Gallius took off his service hat, pulled back a few strands of hair and grabbed the pendant in which hanged a silver heart with a photo inside of it. His wife and child. The commissar sighed, how many years would that kid had if it wasn't for what had befallen them, how intelligent they would be and the remarkable student for the Schola Progenium the universe had missed out on. Gallius yearned for the touch of his late wife, specially in those holidays like Sanguinala represented; with talks of friendship and family all around people's mouth. He kissed the picture gently, letting a few tears roll down his cheek before tugging the photo close to his chest and beginning his prayer.

"I know it has been some time I haven't talked to you..." Gallius whispered, sniffing "But hey, I'm still alive honey...the Cardreans haven't been annihilated yet so I guess I have been doing my duty well. These days are the worst, like the year before this and the one before that one....I miss you and the kid...I miss you both still, there is not a day where I don't think of what we had and what could be if only....if only you two were here. It's not all bad news...I know I tend to say those first and spend more time detailing those that the ones you actually wanted to hear...but I've...met someone...got closer to them if I'm being honest; Dormath, remember him? The one that always wrote you about my health and if you could make me go soft on the regiment...that one...I've grown more than fond of him, too much, to the point some thoughts have been...troubling my mind lately"

The commissar wiped some sweat off from his forehead, he hadn't been this nervous since his final tests to become an officer of the Imperium, yet this felt much more complicated to even put into words. He perfectly understood there was nobody there, that the picture wouldn't spring to life or that there was anyone listening to his prayer, yet he endured; he had to get that off from his chest.

"I know you will laugh at this, probably tell me I'm that fool you fell in love with talking right now...but I wanted to ask you if you could forgive me...for loving him; for wanting to be with him. Our marriage vows said we would be together forever...but now there is someone else here I want...need to share with; I love you too, I always will...but you said I needed to continue on living and-" Gallius stuttered, looking down at the photo again and closing his eyes as he clenched his fist to not be overwhelmed by his emotions "And he...he's the one...I can go on with..."

Gallius stopped, hearing the echoes of distant hymns and Sanguinala carols that were beginning to fill the dirty streets of the Hive City; it was the sign he had spent too long reminiscing about the past and that his prayer had to be cut short. Sniffing into a handkerchief with the Imperial Aquila on it, the commissar blew all of what he had inside of his nostrils into the cloth, that then he proceeded to fold and throw away in one of the servitors close to the exit; he then turned one last time to look back at the statue of the Saint, nodded and walked down the busy streets towards the place where he had told Dormath he would wait him in.

The walk was a good excuse to glance around and see what changes Cardrean suffered on those holidays; which much to Gallius amusement it was not too much, the streets were still infested with drunkards that stumbled from door to door singing carols into the night, Arbites and soldiers alike got together to play a few rounds of the popular local game "Fool's roulette", consisting in passing around a blank gun and either accepting a challenge or telling one embarrassing truth, otherwise you tested luck with the gun to see if you hut yourself with a blank or the other option being there was nothing in the chamber of the gun; there were still bets being wagered on who would last longer in the Penal Legion, some soldiers testing the "fresh bloods" by giving them the beating of their lives to see if they would complain or not, Eternal Sisters making their rounds either returning kids to their homes or stealing little girls to recruit for their gang and, the most mundane thing Gallius could find before arriving at his intended destination. families putting the last decorations under their apartments rows or single floor rooms. That sight brought a tiny smile onto the commissar countenance, for a moment seeing part of his past life reflected in those little families and children so vigorously helping their parents.

The sound of guitars tuning, gangs speaking with each other in sensible tones of voice and mumbling between each other welcomed Gallius back to the people he knew the most; some crude decorations had been posted on the front of the city row that had been assigned to the regiment, with a single light sign that said "958TH" dangling in a very precarious position that the commissar knew it wouldn't last all night hanging there. Cheers received him, people patting the man in the back or saluting respectfully, not many mingled with Gallius at first, as the liquor hadn't kicked in any of the men boldness yet to have casual conversations with his superior, although that wouldn't last forever. They all formed a circle, moving chairs around and taking over the space they were inhabiting, making it theirs completely, with bodily fluids spreading everywhere being pat of that deal. A big, messy, loud, violent, crazy family with all sorts of types of stories, lives and relationships between each other.

"Well? What are you all waiting for opening the Amasec?!?!" Gallius beckoned, receiving hurrah's in response "Let's get this party started, Cardreans!!!!"

With his encouragement, the party began; the first drinks were passed around, a few games were played, some fights were made, people were already crying and laughing together, the whole regiment was present in the same room, enjoying each other's company, forgetting the horrors they had witnessed and the nightmares that kept them awake every single day. This was the only night were the commissar was just like one of the men, drinking, playing, fighting and laughing until his stomach hurt, he took care of his own clothes and washed them with his own hands, he ate with his own hands and he even played a few rounds of "Fool's roulette". Dormath had to come up behind him at some point and give him a piece of advice about what he should do if someone betted a dare he couldn't handle, something the commissar took in good faith and even joked about it.

Everything was going well, people were having the time of their lives, some were even already sleeping on the floor, others taking pictures and sending them to their families or loved ones, the place was slowly getting filled by the aroma of food being cooked in the back, Gallius even got up from his seat and walked towards the kitchen to see how things were coming along, he saw the food cooking away on the huge pot the regiment used for those occasions and smiled, he took a plate and loaded some of that delicious smelling food on it.

"Hey, don't eat everything, I'll go get my own plate!" Dormath joked, pushing the commissar away from the pot and towards the dining area. "What are you doing? I'm hungry…" Gallius giggled, drunkenly following the other man, sitting on his designated spot, which was next to Dormath, something he hadn't even noticed at first. "Today you aren't getting the special treatment sir, you're one of us, so you fucking eat like one of us!" Dormath joked around, pushing the officer to the side "And like one of you I get to flirt with whoever I want?" Gallius smirked, getting some reactions from everyone around "Sir, the kissing under the mistletoe already happened sir, I don't think Dormath here could handle another one" Kell chimed in, trying not to laugh at his own joke "I wouldn't mind" Dormath shrugged, causing everyone around to start cheering at him

Gallius just rolled his eyes, laughing at the comment as he dug into his food, stealing glances at Dormath from time to time and smiling when the other man would look back at him. He wasn't too sure if the other soldiers were making fun of them or genuinely thinking that something was going on, but whatever the case might be, the commissar didn't mind it. There was something nice about it, knowing people knew about how he felt and that he wasn't keeping it a secret anymore. The prayer had helped a hell of a lot with his confidence while the amasec had done it's thing to encourage his reckless behavior.

The dinner went on as any other, with jokes being told, insults being thrown and food flying from one side of the table to the other; Gallius was happy, truly happy, for the first time in many years. That feeling got to a boiling point when someone threw a joke about the commissar having feelings for Dormath, something that Gallius responded with a smirk and an "I'll tell you about it tomorrow"; causing his second in command to bury his head on his jacket out of embarrassment, making everyone laugh at the scene. The night was progressing and the amasec was now being shared with everyone that wanted a taste of it.

"Hey…Gallius…" Dormath mumbled, his voice weak and barely audible above the music, the noise, the conversations and the laughter around them "Hm?" The other man looked up, seeing his officer in a very peculiar state of mind, something that made his stomach flutter in excitement "What does my loyal soldier need from me?" "We can go later to your quarters…yeah?" Dormath drunken mumble got a laugh out of the commissar "My dear officer, you can't even stand on your feet, I doubt you'll be able to do anything if we get there" Gallius responded, caressing Dormath's cheek and feeling the heat emanating from him "Then let me stay in your room tonight…we can talk more there…" Dormath muttered, laying his head on the other man's shoulder "Sure…we can talk more about this later…" Gallius said, smiling as he kissed Dormath's forehead

The two men were interrupted by a few comments from the men around them, some saying "Don't fuck in front of us, take it somewhere else!", "Get a room!" or "Hey, save it for the bedroom, you two!". The commissar responded by saying a middle finger and taking a sip of his drink, Dormath was too intoxicated to respond, or even know what was happening, only that his head was on top of the man he loved and that he was tired. The two remained like that for a while, Gallius talking with everyone else, drinking and laughing, while Dormath tried to hold on to consciousness, only failing at that every now and then, getting a kiss from the commissar whenever that happened.

The party went on, people slowly taking it easier, with the music starting to brew up again from the mumbling mouths of the musicians, who now abandoned the most known Imperial carols and instead going with local lyrics.

"Oh mother, you who taught me everything I watch the lights up above and I think of you Those wonderful days under your warm arms I saw the crammed room, at first, the one that welcomed me home It came the beauty of the fire, taking my hand and showing How the world could be fine, could be beautiful like it My brothers and sisters on the Hives, who await for my arrival I ask for forgiveness, as we lay up here Hugged in warmth, with our souls resting at last I love you all, my friends, but I must return to war We'll see each other where the roads cross under the sun This I promise you, for all that we've been through Goodbye, at last, earth, who loved me whole"

The lyrics were nothing short of an ode to Cardrean and everything the planet had given to the regiment, but it was the perfect time for Gallius to say goodbye and get up from his seat, with a few people noticing it. He didn't say anything, just waved at them and left; he carried Dormath in his back towards his quarters, with a few whistles being heard behind him, something that got a smile out of him.

Dormath woke up soon after he had been laid on the bed, extending his arms out to Gallius while giggling drunkenly; the commissar just smiled at the display and decided to play along, giving his officer a kiss on the forehead and pulling him into a hug.

"You're…a very good person, Gallius" Dormath slurred, looking up at the commissar, eyes half closed "And you are an excellent soldier…the best I could have ever wished for" Gallius whispered, stroking his lover's clean shaven head "You promised…some…action…hmm?" Dormath cheeks flushed red "I…I can still be awake for a couple more minutes…heheh" Gallius took the little clothes he still had on him and slipped on the bed, smirking at Dormath who already looked at the commissar with the fire of desire in his eyes. Gallius moved closer, pulling Dormath by his shoulders and placing him on his lap, getting a moan out of the other man. The commissar kissed Dormath very roughly, biting his lips and pushing his tongue inside the officer's mouth, tasting everything he could in that heated embrace; Gallius started to caress Dormath's back, making his way to his shoulders and chest, where he stopped and began to grope and squeeze at his muscles and joints careful to not touch the switches of Dormath augmented arms, which made the officer whimper loudly into the kiss.

The commissar moved one of his hands down to the officer's crotch, unbuckling his pants and releasing the officer's member, stroking it in a rush to get a reaction out of the other man. Gallius let go of the kiss, now focusing on kissing Dormath's neck, getting a moan out of him when the officer felt Gallius bite him and leaving a mark there, a very rough mark that wouldn't disappear easily. Gallius stopped for a moment, seeing the other man's reaction; Dormath was breathing heavily, sweating profusely, with eyes closed and a smile on his face, he looked absolutely delicious like that. The commissar didn't want to wait any longer and took off his shirt, letting Dormath admire the view; the officer tried to reach out for Gallius body, but his arms failed him, so the other man did it for him, pulling Dormath in a hug and laying him down on the bed, beginning to lick his body from head to toe, leaving no part of him untouched.

Dormath couldn't take it anymore, he was burning up, his mind was racing and he felt like he could pass out at any time, yet he endured, whimpered for every little rough touch Gallius could give him, the officer desired that more than anything, the imposing hands exploring his most intimate parts, the mouth that gave no quarter to his body sucking it dry, the cock making its way into him, stretching his insides as much as it could.

The pleasure was almost too much for the officer to handle, he could barely move or form coherent words, only managing to moan and whimper when Gallius did something he really liked, that combined with the commissar's cock entering him again and again, made for an explosive cocktail. Gallius himself was going at it, the liquor made him feel very lustful and the rough treatment didn't seem to stop anytime soon, his thrusts became more powerful by the minute, Dormath's moans encouraging him to keep going, to push as far as he could go, to make the other man go crazy with his rough touches, kisses and bites.

The two were in heaven, or hell depending on the point of view from their unique form of "pleasure", the whole world forgotten, they had each other to satisfy their needs and nobody else mattered, not even the regiment itself. This kept going until both men couldn't hold it anymore, they came at the same time, Dormath's cock exploding its juices all over the place while Gallius filled up his partner once more, moaning loudly as he did. The two stayed like that for a couple of seconds before Gallius pulled out of Dormath, who whined at the sudden emptiness inside him.

The two panted, trying to catch their breaths, their minds slowly returning to earth from the high of pleasure they had reached, the two looked at each other for a moment, smiling and laughing at what they had done; later came the aftercare, with Dormath cuddling up to Gallius chest and the commissar caressing his head, gently. The officer fell asleep rather quickly, leaving the commissar alone with his thoughts, groggy as they were by the amount of amasec both of them had in the party, but there was one thing he still needed to do.

Gallius got out from the bed carefully, trying not to wake Dormath up as he dressed himself, put on his boots and went out for a smoke; the officer had woken up briefly, but he couldn't do anything except watch the man he loved go away. The cold outside hit Gallius face like a ton of bricks, it was nothing compared to the hot atmosphere inside his room, certainly not the temperatures he had endured on his native Agri-World as well. The commissar walked towards one of the balconies on the side of the building, where he took out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a puff out of it. He looked down at the city, seeing all the lights and the people walking around, going home with their families.

"Gallius…?" Dormath yawned, hugging the man from behind "Are you okay?" "Yeah…just…needed some fresh air" Gallius whispered, smiling as he felt the other man's hug "And a smoke" "Can I have one?" Dormath asked, giving the other man puppy eyes over his shoulder "Here" The commissar placed the cigarette on the other's lips "Can't we stay in here until festivities are over?" Dormath exhaled some smoke that dissipated into the city below "No...no I could only afford to insubordinate for one day" Gallius giggled faintly "The warmaster got all furious on me for it" "What a fucking-" "Hey, language" The commissar looked over his shoulder and smirked "I was just going to praise his huge chest and manly features" Dormath replied with all the sarcasm he could muster at the moment

There was a moment of silence, then the gentle snoring of Dormath told the commissar the man had finally given up on his own tiredness; Gallius gently retrieved the cigarette and gave it another few inhalations before snuffing it out on the handrail and throwing it to the ground, carefully shifting in place to carry the officer sleepy form back to bed and lay next to him. There, he intertwined their legs together and closed his eyes too, letting slumber take him away. For once, Sanguinala had tasted as sweetly as it had been all those years ago with his first family.

"First" family, the commissar subconsciously smiled at the implications of that.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

12th December >> Fr. Martin's Reflections/Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for Thursday, Second Week of Advent (Inc. Matthew 11:11-15): ‘A greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’.

Thursday, Second Week of Advent

Gospel (Except GB & USA) Matthew 11:11-15 A greater than John the Baptist has never been seen.

Jesus spoke to the crowds: ‘I tell you solemnly, of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is. Since John the Baptist came, up to this present time, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence and the violent are taking it by storm. Because it was towards John that all the prophecies of the prophets and of the Law were leading; and he, if you will believe me, is the Elijah who was to return. If anyone has ears to hear, let him listen!’

Gospel (GB) Matthew 11:11-15 ‘There has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist.’

At that time: Jesus said to the crowd: ‘Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John and, if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.’

Reflections (10)

(i) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist was never one to praise himself. Indeed, in the gospels he declares that he is not worthy to untie the sandals of the one who comes after him, the long awaited Messiah. In today’s gospel reading, however, Jesus is not slow to praise John the Baptist. He praises him in glowing terms, declaring, ‘I tell you solemnly, of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. Why is John so special? Jesus goes on to identify John the Baptist as the one who ushered in a new era in God’s dealings with humanity. ‘All the prophecies of the prophets and the Law were leading’ towards John, and, since John began his ministry, ‘the kingdom of heaven’ has been drawing near. Yet, if Jesus’ statement about John the Baptist is remarkable, he makes an even more remarkable statement about all those who are his disciples, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than’ John the Baptist. John had been executed before Jesus began his public ministry. He didn’t live to hear all that Jesus said or to see all that Jesus did, whereas we have access to all Jesus said and did through the gospels. It is true that John did not live to witness the horror of Jesus’ passion and death, but he also didn’t live to witness Jesus’ triumph over death through his resurrection. In contrast, our lives have been deeply touched by the risen Lord, and in the light of the resurrection we recognize Jesus’ passion and death as an act of supreme love, of God’s love for all humanity. We are more blessed than John the Baptist, not because of anything we have done, but as sheer gift, total grace. Having been so greatly blessed and graced by God, in ways that John the Baptist was not, we are called to live out of all the blessings God has given us through his Son, to live graced lives, and in so doing to grace and bless all whom we meet, especially those in greatest need.

And/Or

(ii) Thursday, second week of Advent

In this morning’s gospel reading, Jesus has high praise for John the Baptist. He is greater than all the children born of women. Yet, for all his greatness, John the Baptist pointed to someone greater than himself, Jesus. He did not live to witness Jesus’ death and resurrection, and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost which flowed from those events. He knew nothing of the church, what Paul calls the body of Christ. That is why Jesus says of him that the least in the kingdom of heaven, which Jesus proclaimed and inaugurated, is greater than John. We have all been more privileged than John the Baptist. What John pointed towards we look back on and, indeed, experience in the here and now. In and through the Eucharist, the death and resurrection of Jesus is present to us sacramentally. The Spirit of God’s Son has been poured into our hearts through baptism and confirmation. We possess the written gospels, the letters of Saint Paul and the other documents that make up the New Testament, all of which we venerate as the living word of the Lord and none of which John the Baptist knew. We have indeed been greatly blessed. As Jesus says to his disciples at one point in the gospels, ‘Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!’. It is a beatitude that embraces us all. Having been so greatly graced, we are called to appreciate and value the graces we have received and to allow those graces to touch our lives and make us graceful and grateful people, so that our lives may bless others as we have been blessed.

And/Or

(iii) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is a great Advent saint. He features more prominently in Advent than in any other season of the church’s year. In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus speaks about John in glowing terms. A greater than John the Baptist has never been born; all the prophecies led towards him; he is the prophet Elijah whose return was expected ahead of the coming of the Messiah. Yet, in that same gospel reading, Jesus makes the extraordinary statement that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John announced the coming of Jesus, but he was put to death before Jesus was put to death. He didn’t live to see the death and resurrection of Jesus, the coming of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the church. To that extent we are all more blessed than John the Baptist was. We have tasted the good fruit of the death and resurrection of Jesus and of the coming of the Spirit; we are all part of the church, which for all its failings, is a wonderful privilege. We are greater than John, not because we have done more than John, but because we have been more greatly blessed. We pray this morning that we would never take for granted the ways we have been blessed, but, rather, live generously in response to what we have received, as Jesus said, ‘You received without charge, give without charge’.

And/Or

(iv) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

The praise that Jesus gives to John the Baptist in this morning’s gospel reading is high praise indeed, ‘of all the children born of women, greater than John the Baptist has never been born’. John is deserving of such praise because, as Jesus says in that reading, he is the prophet whose coming all of the Jewish Scriptures looked forward to. He is the Elijah figure who, it was believed, would immediately precede the coming of the Messiah. Yet, having praised John the Baptist for his unique status, Jesus goes on to make an even more remarkable statement, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is’. John had been beheaded before he could really hear and respond to Jesus’ preaching of the kingdom of God. However, through the written gospels and through the coming of the Holy Spirit upon us, we have heard and responded to Jesus’ preaching of the kingdom of God. Our union with Jesus through faith and our commitment to living as his disciple leaves us in any even more privileged place than that of John the Baptist. Advent is a time to give thanks for the gift of the gospel and of our faith response to it. It is also a time to heed the call to grow in our appreciation of that gift and in the quality of our response to it.

And/Or

(v) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is a great Advent saint. He features more prominently in Advent than in any other season of the church’s year. In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus speaks about John in glowing terms. A greater than John the Baptist has never been born; all the prophecies led towards him; he is the prophet Elijah whose return was expected ahead of the coming of the Messiah. Yet, in that same gospel reading, Jesus makes the extraordinary statement that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John announced the coming of Jesus, but he didn’t live to see the death and resurrection of Jesus, the coming of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the church. To that extent we are all more blessed than John the Baptist was. We have tasted the good fruit of the death and resurrection of Jesus and of the coming of the Spirit; we are all part of the church, the community of those who acknowledge Jesus as Lord, a community, which for all its failings, is the sacrament of the Lord’s presence in the world. We are greater than John, not because we have done more than John or are living better lives than he lived, but because we have been more greatly blessed than John. With that greater blessing goes a great calling. We can never take for granted the ways we have been blessed, because such blessings call on us to live generously out of the riches of what we have been given and have received. As Jesus says, ‘You received without charge, give without charge’.

And/Or

(vi) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is a great Advent saint. He features more prominently in Advent than in any other season of the church’s year. In today’s gospel reading Jesus speaks about John in glowing terms. A greater than John the Baptist has never been born; it is towards him that all the prophecies were leading; he is the prophet Elijah whose return was expected ahead of the coming of the Messiah. Yet, in that same gospel reading, Jesus makes the extraordinary statement that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John announced the coming of Jesus, but he didn’t live to see the death and resurrection of Jesus, the coming of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the church. To that extent we are all more blessed than John the Baptist was. We have tasted the good fruit of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit has been poured into our hearts. Through our baptism, we are members of Christ’s body, the church. We are greater than John, not because we have done more than John or are living better lives than he lived, but because we have been more greatly blessed than John. As Jesus says elsewhere in the gospels, ‘Blessed are the eyes that see what you see and the ears that hear what you hear’. With that greater blessing goes a great calling. We can never take for granted the ways we have been blessed. We need to keep growing in our appreciation of what we have been given and to keep responding to the call to give generously to others out of what we have received from the Lord.

And/Or

(vii) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

The people of Israel believed that the prophet Elijah would return one day to announce the immanent coming of the long awaited Messiah or anointed one of God. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus identifies John the Baptist with Elijah, ‘he is the Elijah who was to return’. By implication, Jesus is claiming to be God’s anointed one for whom the people of Israel have been waiting. John the Baptist, therefore, has a really significant role to play. As Jesus says in the gospel reading, ‘a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. Yet, John did not really live to see Jesus proclaim the coming of God’s kingdom. He was executed by Herod Antipas early in the public ministry of Jesus. John knew nothing of the death and resurrection of Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit. That is why Jesus goes on to say, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is’. We are all greater than John the Baptist, not because we are better than him, or holier than he was, but because we have been more greatly graced. In and through the written gospels, we have witnessed the full public ministry of Jesus, his death and resurrection. We have all benefited from the sending of the Holy Spirit. On one occasion, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Blessed are the eyes that see what you see’. That beatitude embraces us all, but not John the Baptist to the same extent. We spend our lives growing in appreciation of all we have received through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Our response to grace is gratitude. Our whole lives are to be a grateful response to God who has blessed us so abundantly in Christ, a response which graces the lives of others as we have been graced.

And/Or

(viii) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

John the Baptist is the saint who comes into his own in the early part of the Advent season. Mary is the saint who comes into her own in the later part of the Advent season. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus gives high praise to John the Baptist, ‘of all children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. That comment certainly gives John the Baptist a unique status among human beings. Jesus goes on to affirm John’s unique status by identifying him with Elijah, whom the prophet Malachi declared would return to prepare people for the coming of the Lord. After such praise of John, it is surprising to hear Jesus also say, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is’. John the Baptist was executed early in the public ministry of Jesus. He did not live to experience the coming of the kingdom of heaven through Jesus’ words and deeds. He certainly never came to known of the death and resurrection of Jesus, through which the Holy Spirit came and the church was formed. In that sense, the least of Jesus’ disciples is greater than John the Baptist. Jesus is reminding us of how privileged we all are to have seen and heard what John never saw or heard. Unlike John the Baptist, we have received from the fullness of the Word made flesh, in the words of the fourth gospel. Our calling is to give generously to the Lord and to each other out of all that we have received from him. In this matter of giving from what we have received, John the Baptist can continue to be our model and inspiration.

And/Or

(ix) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

We all appreciate a little bit of praise from time to time. I think we appreciate praise for who we are as a person even more than praise for what we have done. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus praises John for who he is in glowing terms, ‘of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. Jesus praises John the Baptist as greater than any other human being. It is an extraordinary complement when you think about it. What is so great about John, in the eyes of Jesus? Towards the end of the gospel reading, Jesus identifies John as the Elijah who was to return.  There had been an expectation among the Jewish people that a prophet like Elijah would come to prepare God’s people before the coming of the Messiah. Jesus identifies John the Baptist as that Elijah figure. He had a unique role and he fulfilled it to perfection. Yet, Jesus then goes on to make the even more extraordinary statement, ‘the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than’ John is. Anyone who through their close ties to Jesus experiences the coming of God’s kingdom has a higher status than John the Baptist. Jesus is referring there to all of us. He is reminding us that God has privileged us in a way that John was not privileged. John was executed shortly into the public ministry of Jesus. He was not graced through the death, resurrection, ascension of Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit in the way we have been. He did not live to see the formation of the church, the community of the risen Lord’s disciples. We are being reminded that we have received a great deal from God, through his Son, without any merit on our part, and our calling is to live out of what we have received. As Jesus says elsewhere in the gospels, ‘You received without payment, give without payment’.

And/Or

(x) Thursday, Second Week of Advent

In the gospel reading, Jesus says something very striking about John the Baptist, ‘of all the children born of women, a greater than John the Baptist has never been seen’. The greatness of John consists in his willingness to embrace the role that the prophet Elijah was expected to play in the age of the coming of the Messiah. It was believed that Elijah would be sent ahead of the Lord to prepare a way for him. In referring to John as the promised Elijah, Jesus is implicitly referring to himself as the promised Messiah. Having made that striking statement about John the Baptist, Jesus then makes an even more striking statement, declaring that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John the Baptist. John did not live to see the coming of God’s kingdom through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. He was executed by Herod Antipas shortly into the public ministry of Jesus. Jesus is reminding his disciples of how privileged they are. We are all being reminded of how greatly graced we have been, graced in a way that even John the Baptist wasn’t. We have been given a great deal through the life, death, resurrection of Jesus and the coming of the Spirit, not on the basis of anything we have done, but purely as an expression of God’s love for the world. In the language of the fourth gospel, Jesus has come among us full of grace and truth and from his fullness we have all received. We spend our lives trying to fully appreciate all we have received and are receiving from God through the life, death and resurrection of his Son and then learning to give generously to the Lord and others out of all that we have received.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 27: Voiceless

Some Alucard whump for @whumptober today.

Prompt: Voiceless, laboratory, muzzled Fandom: Hellsing Character: Alucard

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

~~~~~~~

Day 27: Voiceless

An unfortunate incident leaves Alucard injured and captured by a mysterious faction who wish to use him for experimentation. Will Integra and the Hellsing organization be able to find him in time?

~~~~~~~

The fuzziness was an odd sensation. One Alucard was not familiar with. He didn’t know what had happened, why he felt this way.

He tried to move but found he couldn’t. His arms appeared to be stretched out to the sides, and he was held at the wrists in some mockery of the stigmata by something that vaguely burned

“The subject appears to be waking, Father Benedict.”

“Ah, wonderful. I have been looking forward to this moment for a long time. Finally seeing what makes Hellsing’s ultimate weapon tick.”

***

There were no formal introductions given. But Alucard parsed together enough information on his own. He seemed to be in some Vatican funded laboratory in the bowels of what he assumed were a church’s catacomb. Whatever this operation was, it was led by a man named Father Benedict; a stern, aging priest with a sharp, hypocritical eye for sinners.

The thing that bothered Alucard most was that he had little recollection of how he had ended up here. He vaguely remembered a mission, checking out a building. And after that everything fades away. The memory issues might have something to do with whatever they were pumping into him via the needle inserted into his neck. Some holy concoction of their own making, most likely.

“Just what do you think you’re going to do to Hellsing’s ultimate weapon?” Alucard asked, smirking.

The priest was nonplussed. “Furthering research into killing vampires.”

“Oh? Is that so? So you plan to torture me until you find out what you want to know? I don’t think my Master will take very kindly to you toying with her weapon.”

“Your master is the one who handed you over willingly,” the priest said with an attempt at being smug.

Alucard actually laughed, the sharp sound echoing around the stone walls.

“Really? Is that a fact, priest? The very thought of my Master Integra working with the Papists—heh, maybe you should try again. Are you not aware that lying in a sin?”

Father Benedict glowered. “It does not matter. You are not one of God’s creatures and you will die like every other vile beast of the field.”

“I could say the same for you,” Alucard said darkly. “How I will await the day that my Master comes to fetch me back and puts you in your place—a hole in unholy ground.”

The priest was obviously furious, though trying his best to hide it. He snapped at his assistant. “I’m done listening to it speak. Let’s muzzle the beast.”

Alucard laughed until they forced the muzzle over his mouth and nose. It had an inner plate made of blessed silver that was forced into his mouth, pressing against his tongue, burning. It did not break him yet though. He refused to be broken. He had had so much worse done to him than this and survived. He sneered behind the muzzle, piercing the priest with his eyes.

The man would inevitably meet the devil someday, but in the meantime, he would have to face Alucard.

***

They started with stakes. Consecrated silver, holy things, or so the priest claimed—blessed by a Cardinal or something. They stung, yes, but it was hardly consequential to Alucard. He’d had worse. It didn’t matter how many they drove into his body, through his cold heart. It would not kill a vampire as powerful as he was.

***

The holy water was next, poured into the healing holes riddling Alucard’s body once they finally pulled the stakes out. It burned, eating at his flesh before it could fully regenerate. Alucard growled behind the muzzle. This was admittedly more painful than the stakes. The smell of his acid-burned flesh wafted up, sickening.

“The sinful nature of the beast is apparent by how much it is affected,” the priest said with a cruel satisfaction.

Perhaps try pouring it over yourself and see how much better you react, Alucard would have snipped if he hadn’t been muzzled. Or does your piety truly hold up?

The burning continued, and Alucard began to worry just a bit. He had already been here for a while, and now the pain was starting to eat into his bones little by little.

Integra, he called inwardly. You had best collect your weapon before there is little left of him.

***

The holy water torture continued, with more creativity. As his wounds healed sluggishly, the priest put some into a syringe and pumped it directly into Alucard’s veins.

That was agony that he hadn’t quite expected. As he was reeling from that, his muzzle was partly removed, only for the holy water to be poured into his mouth via a funnel they shoved down his throat.

He finally screamed, his throat tearing, blood pouring from his mouth as his insides burned. He writhed against the restraints in an attempt to escape the agony.

“This method seems quite effective,” the priest noted for his assistant. “Unfortunately, it’s not the best battlefield method, but still…enlightening.”

Alucard spat a wad of bloody bile at the priest before his muzzle was shoved back over his face. He could no longer scream, only gurgle.

***

The next session, they used the holy water on his eyes.

***

Alucard had thought the blinding would be the worst thing they did to him. He knew he would heal eventually, especially with a little blood, but at the moment it was disorienting as he relied on his dulled senses to try and figure out what the priest was about to do to him next.

His muzzle was removed once again. He didn’t get the chance to spit more vitriol at the priest though before something else was shoved into his mouth, cranked until it forced his jaw open.

He had indeed thought burning his eyes out would have been the worst thing, but then he felt something closing around one of his fangs.

He growled in protest, trying to pull away, but his fang was wrenched out of his mouth with a sharp tug. Alucard screamed in desperation as the others were removed as well.

His mouth was full of blood by the time they were finished, and he slumped in the restraints.

“Now the great weapon is just a dog with no fangs,” the priest said with cruel satisfaction.

Blood dripped down Alucard’s chin. He had no reply. He had nothing. He felt himself drifting, and this time he didn’t bother to stop it.

***

He was woken by the sound of gunfire.

He still could not see, but he could sense a familiar presence.

Integra…

“Alucard!”

Hands briefly pressed to his cheeks before ripping off the muzzle. “My God, Alucard,” Integra breathed before shouting, “Help me get him down from here, dammit!”

She ripped out the needle that was still administering the drug to him.

More figures approached hurriedly. The chains holding Alucard were released and he slumped forward with a soft moan, caught by several hands before he was lowered to the floor.

“Go fetch a stretcher,” Integra said firmly.

“Can walk….” Alucard slurred.

“Hush,” Integra whispered, her hand on his face again, thumb just brushing the burns around his eyes. “They’ll burn for what they did to you. All of them will.”

Her fire bolstered him a bit, offering a little strength. “My Master,” he sighed wearily.

“Easy, Alucard, allow me to give you some blood.”

He felt her shift and heard a knife opening before the scent of Integra’s blood hit his nostrils.

He leaned forward eagerly and Integra cradled the back of his head, holding him upright as she pressed her bleeding arm to his mouth.

“Drink as much as you need,” she told him, running a hand through his matted hair. “You will heal, correct?”

Alucard hummed. “Yes…with time.”

“Then until then, rest easy,” Integra said softly as he lapped at her arm. “It’s my turn to watch over you.”

[immediatebreakfast]

If something could hold more weight in the argument of Victor and Henry's relationship as a possible romantic relationship, than Victor and Elizabeth, is their interactions in this chapter. Of course it should be said that the notions of friendship back then are very different from the notions of friendship today. So what we consider a romantic gesture, it might be general kindness expected of a friend. However, that doesn't mean we can ignore the possible queer subtext between Victor and Henry.

I thought that the symbolism of a worried husband taking careful care of his frightened and ill wife would stop last chapter, but boy I was wrong. Victor and Henry might as well go ahead and secretly swear marriage to eachother in front of the doors of a church while the moon is their only witness.

They care so much for eachother, they keep eachother balanced in an almost harmonic way. Henry is the emotional anchor that keeps Victor grounded and connected to reality, while Victor is the person that allows Henry to express all of his imagination and personality without judgement.

The whole scene of Victor introducing Clerval to his professors so they can not only know him, but approve the man who has caring for him so many months. How Henry is so carefully aware of Victor's emotions regarding science for the moment, to the point that he directs the flow of conversations as to not overwhelm Victor with what is now a delicate subject.

Victor finally allows himself to heal a little bit under the care of Henry, and at the same time he bitterly admits that he doesn't want to leave his side. Moreover, both of them delay Victor's return to Switzerland so they can continue to live and love in this pocket of happiness away from their standings in society. Surrounded by scholarly life that lets them cultivate their minds, and their hearts with their love for eachother.

"Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me" Victor why don't you just cut the chase, and kiss him before going back to your home, and all of the fucked up family dynamics that await you.

One little tiny detail. I applaud Victor for somehow still keeping up with his university work while wasting away on a constant mental breakdown fueled by his desire of overcoming death through crimes against nature. That is an achievement that one should be proud of.

[simshousewindsor]

CORONATION PART 5: THE FINALE

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: And so, as her father and his father before him did, Her Majesty now moves in her procession down the length of this abbey, in her beautiful gown with its long purple train. And she wears, as we see her now, the Imperial State Crown. In her hands, the scepter and the rod. The signs, that in her hands, justice and mercy are never to be separated.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Exiting the abbey for the first time, The Queen and Prince consort greet the awaiting photographers and sims.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: History has been written and sung here today, in this warm and beautiful old building, where it has been written and sung for many hundred of years.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Yes, but never before have we witnessed the crowning of the sovereign, or so many shared in her dedication, in this abbey church!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Her Majesty will hand the orb and scepter to a waiting footman before returning entering the 136-year-old Gold State coach.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The ride back to the palace should be far more comfortable for Her Majesty than the journey here.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: I can't believe they fit her large train inside.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Queen Katherine I and Prince Rainier are formally crowned and will now depart the abbey.

(crowd cheering)

Shon Gableton [SNN]: The crowd is going wild, Cameron! Her Majesty is very beloved by her sims.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Indeed.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: We have thoroughly enjoyed watching the coronation of Queen Katherine I! We will be following Her Majesty's procession back to the palace where the entire royal family is expected to appear on the balcony. In the meantime, wow!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Wow is right, Cameron! Can we talk about Prince Rainier! The first prince consort crowned, and he didn't kneel!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: That was the biggest shock. I guess the monarchy is trying to appeal to the younger generation and eliminate many of those unsavory traditions.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Crowds have lined Parliament Square Street as Her Majesty's procession passes.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: You can even see a glimpse of the Duke and Duchess of Kent!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The procession is moving at a walking pace with four Windsor Greys pulling the Queens coach.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Are those royal guards following the state coach?

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: They are the Queens Guards. I believe a total of twenty-four are amongst today's procession guarding Her Majesty.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Such splendor!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Oh! The Duke and Duchess of Kent!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Their Royal Highnesses are first behind the Queen.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: The Duke removed his hat!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The procession is rounding Memorial Arch and will soon be at The Mall.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Yes. Her Majesty is almost home. As the procession enters The Mall, we get a glimpse of the Grenadier Guards who have just joined the final leg of the procession.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Upon returning to Buckingsim Palace, Their Majesties will receive a Royal Salute from the United Kingdom and Commonwealth Armed Forces who have been on parade all day. The Royal Salute will be followed by three cheers from the assembled service personnel, as a tribute from the Armed Forces on parade to The Queen and The Prince Consort on the day of Their Majesties’ Coronation.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: Just behind the Duke and Duchess of Kent are the Earl and Countess of Boykins.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The Duke appears to have put his hat back on. The wind must have calmed down more!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: I just love his hat!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: The Earl and Countess appear to have had a lovely coronation. Boykins House will be issuing an announcement in the coming days. Royal insiders speculate Their Royal Highnesses are announcing a tour.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: So much to look forward to this year, Shon!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: As Queen Katherine enters the gates of Buckingsim Palace, we now look forward to the start of a glorious reign.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: We do, indeed! Other members of the royal family arrived by car and will be making an appearance on the balcony with Her Majesty shortly. It's been a magnificent Coronation Day!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: It has, Cameron! I can't believe it's over.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Almost over! For me, the cherry on top of the cake is going to be the balcony wave! Coronation Day won't feel complete until Her Majesty greets her subjects from the palace!

Shon Gableton [SNN]: We'll be right back, after this commercial break, for the final moments of The Coronation of Queen Katherine I.

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: The Windenburg Royal Family appear on the balcony, with Her Majesty Queen Katherine I, as chants of "Hoorah, Hoorah!", "Long Live The Queen!" and choruses of 🎶God Save the Queen🎶 ring on.

Shon Gableton [SNN]: From us here at SNN, thank you for watching the Coronation of Queen Katherine I!

Cameron Dorly [SNN]: Long Live Queen Katherine I!

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