#c: From the Flames (Gregory)

[sempsimps]

Gregory Violet x reader smut

okay this is technically part 2 of the one i posted before this (i have no idea how to do the fancy links but on my ao3 its apart of the same thing okay) i copied the same moments and we continue from there and i edited it from some YouTube video an i think i write better now idfk

warnings;

(i need to touch grass)

blowjob

very nearly getting caught

first time / unexperienced (both sides)

like 7 minuets in heaven kinda

As I sat on the floor of the almost empty storage room, the dim light from the purple flame of the cricket prop cast a soft glow. My face blushed as I gazed longingly at the face of the purple prefect.

"Can i uhh...."

As I spoke, my words seemed to disappear into thin air as I gently inclined towards him. Our lips met, and I was engulfed in a feeling of light-headedness and an avalanche of butterflies in my stomach. As we kissed, I could feel the subtle transfer of his lipstick onto my lips, blurring the boundaries between us. I pulled away, but the softness of them still lingered on mine. he faintly tasted like a mix of the fruit juice they had set out, definitely apple and a hint of orange, maybe cranberry as well. Gregory's cheeks were tinged with a shade of rosy red as if a subtle dance of warmth and embarrassment adorned his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't ask if I c-could.. uhh, do that"

"It's alright, i didn't ask you to stop"

Gregory looked away, and I pulled him towards me, my fingers curling gently around his arm as I felt the warmth of his body drawing closer. I could see the surprise in his eyes as his movements mirrored mine, almost as if he was pulled by an invisible force. As our faces drew near, 'Oh god, is this really happening?' Our hands clumsily found their way to each other's faces, fingers brushing against skin as our breaths mingled. In our nervousness, our teeth accidentally clashed, causing him to pull away hesitantly, leaving me with a mix of confusion and longing. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red that extended down his neck. The colour was barely visible against his outfit in the dimly lit room. he broke my silent adoration, and my mouth unknowingly was open.

"You're... uhh, you're really pretty"

"I uh t-thank you. I think you're pretty too"

we both blushed, and I looked away. but his gentle touch slowly turned my head back, letting us have another kiss. This one was slower and more organized than the others. It lets us fully enjoy the moment of peace and half confession. his tongue lightly passed through my lips, and I returned the gesture. He let out a small noise of surprise. This didn't feel real. my hand travelled down Gregory's clothes. I couldn't even feel his body through the baggy outfit. we broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting our lips together before snapping. we were both panting as we gazed into the other's eyes. My hand didn't move from the vague spot near his clothed hardness, the heat coming off it.

"u-uh c-could I touch you? down t-there, I mean"

his eyes widened, and as I opened my mouth to apologize, I instantly regretted my words. Before I could speak, he cut me off with a whine. hand reaching to my wrist and guiding me to him. I blushed but wilfully followed him.

"p-please, I need you"

"oh I uh o-okay then"

I slowly parted the opening of his cloak, pushing it to the sides. It was heavier than it looked, like a weighted blanket. I could barely make out his silhouette through his trousers. I reached to pull them down. it was clear he was turned on. the dim light did nothing to hide this arousal, and the fact that he was softly gasping at the slightest movement near his throbbing member gave it away as well. I traced the heat of it, and he bucked into my hand. 'Oh god, that's hot.' My mouth was going dry, and I swallowed hard. The tip was leaking a bit already slowly trailing down to my fingers, I removed my hand to lick it off, receiving a needy whine at the loss of contact. but when I came back, I only had to graze him, for his hips to lean into any friction, head rolling back to pant attempting to regain his breath. his hands gripping at the cloak. it's not like he could help it. the need for stimulation was hot too hot. his throat was dry, and he kept stuttering into my hand, breathy moans and whining. "nnnggghhh hah ah uhh" he was so sensitive. his hand coming up to his face, he brought his hand up to cover his mouth, his teeth biting into his pointer finger, leaving behind a faint trace of smudged lipstick on his skin. I took my hand and lightly removed it from his mouth. softly kissing Gregory's lips, the warm feeling was incredible. I felt his cock twitch a little and I used this to guess he was reaching the end I stopped kissing his lips to taste his tip a little salty but i lowered my mouth deeper I kept moving my hand in tandem with my head now bobbing along it. I felt hands in my hair gripping it tightly, and he loudly cried out as I felt hot liquid down my throat. i eagerly swallowed around his member, making him oversensitive. pulling myself off to rapidly intake the air, my face obviously flushed. After their intimate moment, Gregory carefully tucked himself back into his trousers, ensuring that he appeared presentable. I mimicked his actions as I stood up, wanting to make sure that I looked composed as well. it was good timing because right after the door opened. There stood my brother and Redmond, who giggled a little. I'm guessing Greenhill was somewhere off to the side

"Come on, the others are leaving now"

okay okay I admit the end was rushed but I got to finish this before I can do anything else the tisum demands it but seriously i have lots more to do and my writing might be better now I'm not sure to be honest but i did just copy a few lines from part 1 and added the smut into it because that was the original plan but of well

[blackmetalbats]

Dies Irae

I am so sorry but i did a deep dive on the Dies Irae because of the last malevolent episode and now its gonna be all of you's problem.

one of the oldest and most frequently borrowed of all melodies is the ecclesiastical plainsong to the sequence 'Dies Irae', because of the theme's intrinsic merit, but also its liturgical associations. No record of its origin remains, but both words and melody appear to have been suggested by a passage from the Respond ' Libera me, Domine', which follows the Requiem Mass (catholic mass for the dead) on solemn occasion.

SOURCE: Gregory, R. (1953). “Dies Irae.” http://www.jstor.org/stable/730837

the Requiem Mass contained several special components; the Dies Irae was one of these, formally added to the Mass in 1570. Its text was penned by Thomas of Celano during the late 11th or early 12th century, and it offers a graphic depiction of the horrors of Judgment Day for sinners. the New Catholic Encyclopedia states that

"The medieval Sequence stresses fear of judgment and condemnation."

SOURCE: Brooks, E. (2003). "The Dies Irae ("Day of Wrath") and Totentanz ("Dance of Death"): Medieval Themes Revisited in 19th Century Music and Culture." https://scholarworks.uark.edu/inquiry/vol4/iss1/5

Centre panel from Memling's tryptich Last Judgment (c. 1467–1471)

the text contains three basic references:

(1) Zephaniah 1:15,16

That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of the trumpet and alarm, against the fortified cities, and against the high battlements.

(2) II Peter 3:10-12

But the day of the Lord will come as a thief; in which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up. Seeing that these things are thus all to be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy living and godliness, looking for and earnestly desiring the coming of the day of God, by reason of which the heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat?

(3) finally, the judgment portion of Matthew 25 is cited as part of the scriptural basis for the "Dies Irae."

THE TEXT, in an english translation from the original latin

Day of wrath and doom impending, David's word with Sibyl blending! Heaven and earth in ashes ending!

O, what fear man's bosom rendeth, When from heaven the Judge descendeth. On whose sentence all dependeth!

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth, Through earth's sepulchers it ringeth. All before the throne it bringeth.

Death is struck, and nature quaking, All creation is awaking. To its Judge an answer making.

Lo! the book exactly worded. Wherein all hath been recorded; Thence shall judgment be awarded.

When the Judge His seat attaineth, And each hidden deed arraigneth. Nothing unavenged remaineth.

What shall I, frail man, be pleading ? Who for me be interceding. When the just are mercy needing?

King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us. Fount of pity, then befriend us!

Think, kind Jesus! my salvation Caused Thy wondrous Incarnation; Leave me not to reprobation.

Faint and weary Thou hast sought me. On the Cross of suffering bought me; Shall such grace be vainly brought me ?

Righteous Judge! for sin's pollution Grant Thy gift of absolution. Ere that day of retribution.

Guilty, now I pour my moaning. All my shame with anguish owning; Spare, O God, Thy suppliant groaning!

Through the sinful woman shriven. Through the dying thief forgiven. Thou to me a hope has given.

Worthless are my prayers and sighing. Yet, good Lord, in grace complying, Rescue me from fires undying.

With Thy favored sheep O place me, Nor among the goats abase me. But to Thy right hand upraise me.

While the wicked are confounded. Doomed to flames of woe unbounded. Call me with Thy Saints surrounded.

Low I kneel, with heart submission. Crushed to ashes in contrition; Help me in my last condition!

Ah! that day of tears and mourning! From the dust of earth returning, Man for judgment must prepare him;

Spare, O God, in mercy spare him! Lord all-pitying, Jesu Blest, Grant them Thine eternal rest.

the first six stanzas describe the Judgment. the other stanzas are lyric in character, expressing anguish of one of the multitude there present in spirit; his pleading before the Judge who, while on earth, sought him unceasingly over the hard and thorny ways from Bethlehem to Calvary; and now, in anticipation of the Judgment, pleads before a Savior of infinite mercy, who, on Judgment Day, will be a Judge of infinite justice, before whom scarcely the just will be secure.

SOURCE: Demaray, D. E. (1965). "Thomas of Celano and the" Dies Irae". https://place.asburyseminary.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2018&context=asburyjournal

[eldritchdiplomacy]

Bottom Table OT3: The Playlist

We, like Jinnah, will mourn our lads forever

(click for song explanations!)

Take Me Out To The Ball Game - Ed Meeker

"Eldritch Harrahs," He says, fingering the bright red laces on a baseball like a rosary

Team - Lorde

Classic poly theme, living in ruins.

"And everyone's competing For a love they won't receive 'Cause what this palace wants is release."

Ravenous - Autumn Orange

Impeccible vibes.

Eat Your Young - Hozier

Post-war heroes left in slums with their ghosts

"Come and get some Skinnin' the children for a war drum Puttin' food on the table, sellin' bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young"

Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

A shiny jade jewel in said slums

"She rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her? She rules her life like a bird in flight And who will be her lover?"

Boats & Birds - Gregory & The Hawk

Children without souls

"If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze I live to make you free, I live to make you free…"

Hearts a Mess - Gotye

Sean Fucking Finnerty

"You have lost too much love To fear, doubt and distrust, it's not enough You just threw away the key to your heart Don't get burned 'cause nothing gets through It makes it easier, easier on you That much more difficult for me To make you see."

Love In The Time Of Socialism - Yellow House

Teenagers all in love with each other

"But I am home wherever you are near There's no life in anything When you're not here."

Whatever Fits Together - Skullcrusher

I mean…

"Do you ever look back? Does it all fit together? If we're here, does it matter? (If we're here, does it matter?)"

Marked For Death - Emma Ruth Rundle

Marion & Jean

"Who else is going to love someone like me that’s marked for death? Who else is going to be with me when I breathe it all?"

Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - The Decemberists

Marion & Sean

"And here I dreamt I was a soldier And I marched the streets of Birkenau And I recall in spring The perfume that the air would bring To the indolent town Where the barkers call the moon down The carnival was ringing loudly now And just to lay with you There's nothing that I wouldn't do Save lay my rifle down"

Hard Times - Ethel Cain

The Exorcists' Daughter

"Tell me a story About how it ends Where you're still the good guy I'll make pretend 'Cause I hate this story Where happiness ends And dies with you."

Edith's Theme - Crimson Peak

The Lighthouse

Say Yes To Heaven - Lana Del Rey

Sean & Jean

"If you go, I'll stay You come back, I'll be right here Like a barge at sea In the storm, I stay clear 'Cause I've got my mind on you I've got my mind on you…"

Sunlight - Hozier

Sean & Jean & Marion

"All the tales the same Told before and told again A soul that’s born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight And, at last, can grant a name To a buried and a burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight."

Your Protector - Fleet Foxes

The Circle of Needle & Thread

"As you lay to die beside me, baby On the morning that you came Would you wait for me? The other one would wait for me."

The Mother Road - Chelsea Wolfe

The doc who knows she'll never lead a normal life, have a normal love.

"I do not have a child But I'm old enough to know some pain And I'm hell-bent on loving you Women know what it is to endure."

Running Up That Hill - Placebo

All too stubborn to let each other die.

"Oh, come on, baby Oh, come on, darlin' Let me steal this moment from you now Oh, come on, angel Come on, come on, darlin' Let's exchange the experience…"

A Vampire's Heart - Peter Gundry

Doplegangers

Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

Jean, Sean, & Marion

"I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you…"

Oh, To Dream Of Such Eldritch Things - Autumn Orange

The Compromised Lightkeeper

A Shot Rang Out - Emily Jane White

Sean FUCKING Finnerty, Marion, Jean

"Dreamers we aren't few But I don’t want to bury my dreams with you."

The Ghost On The Shore - Lord Huron

Man down

"Die if I must, let my bones turn to dust I'm the lord of the lake and I don't want to leave it…"

Call Your Mom - Noah Kahan

You can't do this to Peggy, bud.

"Medicate, meditate, save your soul for Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me?"

Funeral - Phoebe Bridgers

War boys wearing the same face, so many hearts.

"And last night, I blacked out in my car And I woke up in my childhood bed Wishing I was someone else, feeling sorry for myself When I remembered someone's kid is dead…"

Francesca - Hozier

Jean & Marion re: Sean

"Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm since I was born How could I fear any hurricane?"

Is Your Love Strong Enough? - GWTDT

"Just one beat of your heart And stranger than fantasy I knew from the start It had to be the place for me Someone that I would die for There's no way I could ever leave."

Death With Dignity - Sufjan Stevens

The Survivor

"Spirit of my silence I can hear you, but I'm afraid to be near you And I don't know where to begin And I don't know where to begin…"

My Love - Florence + The Machine

The Next Step

"My arms emptied, the skies emptied The buildings emptied…"

[alister312]

The Path Taken [A Gregstophe Fansong]

Written for Gregstophe Week 2023. Day 5: Devotion/Betrayal.

You read that right— for day 5, I wrote a song! I used to write songs a lot, sometimes based on shows and characters, sometimes based on D&D campaigns I was in, sometimes original. However, in all that time, I’d never written a song for my favorite ship all time. I thought it was about time I remedied that.

Original lyrics by me, written and performed on ukulele. You can find the lyrics and chords in the description of the YouTube video. Explanation of lyrical choices as well as a link to the journey through song drafts below the cut!

Firstly, some reasons I chose the chords I did. Playing around chords early on, prior to any of the drafts, I got really into the Em chord. I was just vibing with how it sounded. I knew I was going for a more melancholy sound since it would be from Christophe’s POV, something very longing. I’ve had experience in sticking the D chord between minor chords to make it sound minor. I decided to do that again, and the Am chord sort of just happened since it was nearby. I didn’t want the song to be too dark though, so I threw the C chord in an attempt to brighten the melody.

For the song opening, I had that pretty solidified early on. I knew God had to be mentioned in there somewhere and I ended up really liking the idea of Christophe comparing and contrasting himself to God. However, he’s not uplifting himself, instead he’s putting God down. I also really wanted to play around with the sound similarities between “leave” and “lead”, two things Christophe associates with Gregory. One he wants, the other he fears.

Onto verse 1! The idea of Christophe being dynamite set off by Gregory, the spark of the revolution, sort of came from a line from a webcomic I really love called Shaderunners. It has two characters that I majorly project Gregory and Christophe onto, both in appearance and personality. One of them has a line at one point about how they’re flames, always burning each other down. It really fits so well for Gregstophe, but it needed a touch more martyrdom. So, Christophe wants Gregory to destroy him.

Continuing with the idea of them as flames, not just in a romantic sense, but flames of the revolution they’re fighting for, I alluded to Gregory’s “La Resistance” line (”You see the distant flames, they bellow in the night”). This is further cemented by the “Flag in fist” image, meant to invoke their Les Mis roots.

Skipping chorus for now, let’s do verse 2. Since v1 opens discussing Christophe, I wanted v2 to open talking about Gregory. While I don’t always think “silver-tongue” is the most apt way to describe Gregory (it has some more negative connotations I don’t quite see him as), it helped transition into the sword imagery for him rather well. It also gave a chance to show Christophe’s self doubt/insecurity in comparison to Gregory’s accomplishments. And since I’d just compared Gregory to his rapier, it only made sense to do the same to Christophe with his shovel.

This continues, Christophe putting himself down while putting Gregory on a pedestal. Almost literally, placing him on his soapbox (morally better than him) and ivory (meant to invoke thoughts of wealth, showing that Gregory is above him in social status as well). However, even though Christophe sees himself as an animal, a lowly mole, Gregory is lifting him up to the same level as him, getting rid of the barriers between them.

Now let’s do the “bridge”. I put that in quotes because often there’s meant to be a shift of some kind for the bridge in a song, but I didn’t do that. It’s more of a callback to the opening, restating the idea of promises and keeping them. I have no specifics in mind for these promises, but more vague ideas of promises of devotion and loyalty to a cause, or at least to Gregory. If Gregory swears to die for a cause, then Christophe will too.

The idea of “deathbed” came from a comment Sara made to me when I was looking for song title suggestions. I immediately loved the imagery and knew it had to be a line, again calling back to the opening idea of Christophe’s mother tucking him into bed and telling him about God. The dogs, of course, are the guard dogs that lead to Christophe’s ultimate demise and the next line is taken directly from his dying refrain (“Now the light, she fades / and darkness settles in”).

The last line of the “bridge” is doing two things. One, it’s the clearest allusion in the song towards Christophe’s cigarette addiction (go up in smoke). It’s also serving as another callback towards the idea of them being flames, destructive but in a valiant way. They might be dying for the cause, but they refuse to go quietly. Their sacrifice, no matter how it is they die, is a blaze of glory for them.

At last, time for the chorus! Gregory has a clear martyr complex, a want to not only fight but die fighting for a cause. Christophe wants to be there no matter what but doesn’t know how, so the best he thinks he can offer is to dig Gregory’s grave, even if it’ll break his heart. He’s unsure if Gregory will permit this though, so Christophe has to ask him while assuring Gregory that this is the right choice for him. Christophe wants to be led, he wants to follow Gregory no matter what, even if at the end of the path is their mutual deaths.

If you’d like to hear the development the song went through, you can listen to rough drafts 1-9 here :)

I hope you enjoyed the song! If you have any further questions about it, feel free to ask me at any time :)

[theuniverseawakens347]

Alissa Chris Malcom willingly put shit on me when LEE TOLD U FEDERAL WAS HAPPENING

At Flora Lindsay Lainy Baylee brooke Caroline pinned things on basket to put on me when basel confronted Lee W THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING NONSENSE none of this made ..

Marcus after yesterday took it off of me and shake admitting perjury through Laing for willingly taking her nudes and meeting up fucking and drugging lainy .. per Lee request ( cause he’s BLACK dark skin)

Chris been knew that willingly took bait so we don’t care about him tried to put shit on Myron t dough as Correy c and Dre cause a jealous piece of shit of those dudes also they’re telepathic and he knows this ..but the weakest scared one of the crew ..and also a sociopath in the head a nigga w NO STREET CODE ETHICS OR MORALS WOULD SET ANYONE ONE UP AND GAS LIGHT THEN HOW ALEX GOT IN TROUBLE ..Chris being STOOPID make sense nigga u was always on some weird shit like Gregory at 54 .. Alex nurse for Chris on some dumb shit and Chris put that on Myron / Correy c t dough seen what happened .. why ya ass really ran to the south “for school” to partnas don’t like you niggas setting u up for they lick back imma help them get it.

Ian can confirm. District boyZ n Ian from a different plain / VERSES past life version of Tristan Ian and Harrell and t dough …Correy c is me .. Jo-Jo is me .. djuana .. guys I don’t really care about her BITXH tried to set me up so 🤷🏽‍♀️ ded

Anyways Alissa fat payout to get me to fuck my family / have a baby by someone NOT MY RIGHTFUL TWIN FLAME THIS LIFE AT HOWARD REQUEST .. u took the bate at Tyler poking holes in my condoms .. lmao this gotta be fucking fake …

THIS HOW YALL LETTING ME COME OUT AS ME?? YO THIS SOME WEAK ASS SHIT.

OBAMA U GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW LIKE BE SOOOOO FUCKING FRFR AINT NOOOO FUCKING WAY THIS REAL LIFE.

Yal weird case n point. I know what I need to know. YALL WEIRD.

I said I’m having two husbands on the blog Lee Howard for Lee tried to “get me pregnant” by one of yal outside of my rightful ones to JUST HOW EARGER LOOSE MORALS YAL ARE. ALL WHO PARTICIPATED CAST AWAY AT MALCOM WEIRDO UR 5 ..why tf would I want ur child or to sleep w u

Who tf flora said my parents snuck me a phone when they came to visit around their Hawaii / Delaware trip .. um 😕 guys be sooo fucking Dr then that makes u a shit support and Baylee a shitty ass liar but also like a shit person to care over kids lmao poor Scarlett .. it’s like u don’t want her .. why get pregnant by Basel miss doing drugs w Ashley in the house / sd OD Emily 🤯

LIVES ON REPEAT. ETERNAL DAMNNATION. 😈 on a different planet. Good luck fightING in the war soldiers. ALL OF CLARITY HOUSE EXCEPT CAILTIN CAUSE SHE ADMITTED / ALERTED BASEL AND DISNT DO THIS WEIRDO SHIT THANKS SISTR .. EMAN INFORNMANT. DEAD. FUCK THAT LYING AS NARCISCO BITCH KILLED HER OWN BROTHER AND TOLD NO one. Also SHE KNEW THE DAY SHE WALKED OUT SHE WAS FUCKED. CAUSE SHE WAS GOING TO SELL HER SOUL SHE DID. AND HER BROTHER GAVE HER THE VOICES FOR KILLING HIM AND NOT ADMITTING IT TO ANYONE .. oops revenge on everyone mom is DEATH. permanent. Okay sorry ramzi, I don’t care. Taylor psycho hate her death lied about psych ward to do drugs Baylee signed off on it Erin can ATest..eyes in the sky to the fuck shit

I gotta go about everyone in this??

Marcus death don’t care

Shake make right don’t care handle w Ian and Tristan

Harrell I like u battle it out w bay but he’s get baby

Yal niggas really fr? Rn ? This real life … where’s the “THIS A JOKE” sign cause no way ..

Ian death by perjury thru Lee Alissa Morris I’m just kidding 🤷🏽‍♀️ idk yal just tell me I’m just writing it at papa 👴🏻

Kk over the “proving I’m telepathic “ ITS NOT GOING NO WHERE Lee how u still think I’m lying but guilty of knowing I’m not lying about that

Yal gone tell me this was ONE BUG FAMILY GAME U WIN WE LET U FREE .. I just 🙂🖕🏽🤯

Yal doing this cause the amount of fucking drugs she put me on .. and fried my spleen n brains .. 🤷🏽‍♀️ a bitch be walking every day .. not retarted a little slow and HIGHLY FUCKING HIGHLY PISSED KIM PLAYING MICKY AND IM STILL IN THIS FUCKING CAR NIGGAS COULD HAVE GOTTEN ME A FUCKING HOTEL YAL SOME CHEAP BAGS OF DICKS.

[avacado-tm]

Kinnie Bullshit for myself

feel free to ignore

it's fucking long

- Foxy the Pirate (FNaF)

- Jeremy Fitzgerald (FNaF 2)

- Toy Chica (FNaF 2)

- Phantom Bonnie (FNaF 3)

- Freddles (FNaF 4)

- Nightmarionette (FNaF 4)

- Funtime Freddy (Sister Location)

- Funtime Foxy (Sister Location)

- Lefty (Pizza Simulator)

- Security Puppet (Pizza Simulator)

- Jeremy (Help Wanted VR)

- Captain Foxy (Curse of Dreadbear)

- Radioactive Foxy (Special Delivery)

- Black Heart Bonnie (Special Delivery)

- Glamrock Chica (Security Breach)

- Sun (Security Breach)

- Gregory (Security Breach)

- Vanny (Security Breach)

- Lonely Freddy (Fazbear Fright: Fetch)

- Stitches (Animal Crossing)

- Gullivarrr (Animal Crossing)

- K.K. Slider (Animal Crossing)

- Hooty (TOH)

- Luz Noceda (TOH)

- Kotori Miniami (LoveLive! Muse)

- Rin Hoshizora (Lovelive! Muse)

- Hanamaru Kunikida (Love Live! Aquors)

- Shizuko Osaka (Love Live! Nijigasaki)

- Kanata Konoe (Love Live! Nijigasaki)

- c!Tommy (DreamSMP)

- c!Quackity (DreamSMP)

- Ghostbur (DreamSMP)

- Sam Nook (DreamSMP)

- Glimmer (She-Ra)

- Kyle (She-Ra)

- Mango Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Mint Choco Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Sorbet Shark Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Moon Rabbit Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Milk Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Vampire Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Custard Cookie III (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- White Lily Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Mint Choco Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Clover Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

- Underswap Sans (Undertale)

- Spamton (Deltarune)

- Ohto Ai (Wonder Egg Priority)

- Frill (Wonder Egg Priority)

- Sonic (Sega)

- Silver the Hedgehog (Sega)

- Cheese the Chao (Sega)

- Himiko Toga (BNHA)

- Denki Kaminari (BNHA)

- Hawks (BNHA)

- Mirio Togata (BNHA)

- Present Mic (BNHA)

- Makoto Naegi (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc)

- Chihiro Fujisaki (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc)

- Mikan Tsumiki (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair)

- Rantaro Amami (Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony)

- Himiko Yumeno ( Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony)

- Monokuma (Danganronpa 1/2/U.D.G./V3)

- Emmet (Lego Movie)

- Metalbeard (Lego Movie)

- Good Cop (Lego Movie)

- Joker (Lego Batman Movie)

- Robin (Lego Batman Movie)

- Heisenberg (Resident Evil 8)

- Ethan Winters (Resident Evil)

- Twilight Sparkle (MLP:FiM)

- Fluttershy (MLP:FiM)

- Derpy (MLP:FiM)

- Princess Celestia (MLP:FiM)

- Tweek Tweak (South Park)

- Kenny McCormick (South Park)

- Heidi Turner (South Park)

- Clyde Donovan (South Park)

- Stan Marsh (South Park)

- Sheila Broflovski (South Park)

- Penny Carson (BoJack Horseman)

- Mr.Gar (Ok KO)

- Potato (Ok KO)

- Rad (Ok KO)

- Lord Boxman (Ok KO)

- Candy Mare (Creepypasta)

- Pinkamena (Creepypasta)

- Rainbow Factory RD (Creepypasta)

- Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

- Louise Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

- Aoi Mukou (You and Me and Her)

- Sone Miyuki (You and Me and Her)

- Callie (Splatoon 1)

- Pearl (Splatoon 2)

- Marina (Splatoon 2)

- Shiver (Splatoon 3)

- Neo 3/ New Agent 3 (Splatoon 3)

- Bobble Hat (Splatoon Manga)

- Jake the Dog (Adventure Time)

- Flame Princess (Adventure Time)

- Betty Grof (Adventure Time)

- Power (Chainsaw Man)

- Denji (Chainsaw Man)

- Ron (Ron Goes Wrong)

- Aiko Fukasugi (A Present From Her)

- Nitogi Amane (You are still a bird in a cage)

- Eddie (Stranger Things)

- Kitty (Battle Kitty)

- Mary Poppins

- Pico (Friday Night Funkin)

- Venom (Venom)

- Spongebob Squarepants

- Ladybug/ Marinette (Miraculous Ladybug)

- Plagg (Miraculous Ladybug)

- John/June Egbert (Homestuck)

- Luigi Mario (Mario Bros.)

- Nick Wilde (Zootopia)

- Flug (Villianous)

- Alberto Scorfano (Luca)

- Shōyō Hinata (Haikyuu)

- Jeremy Heere (Be More Chill)

- Cecil (Welcome to Nightvale)

- Felix (The Walten Files)

- Kakyoin Noriaki (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

- Lance McClain (Voltron)

- Remy (Ratatouille)

- Jack (Beastars)

- Shirou Ogami (BNA)

- Toph (ATLA)

- Sokka (ATLA)

- Flapjack (The Misadventures of Flapjack)

- Gandhi (Clone High)

- Craig (Dean) Pelton (Community)

- Spencer Shay (iCarly)

- Mr.Noodle (Elmo's World)

- Pingu (Pingu)

- Dot Warner (Animaniacs)

- Izaya Orihara (Durarara!!)

- Goro Majima (Yakuza...all games)

- Gregg Lee (Night in the Woods)

- Piratekin

- Bunnykin

- Winter Miku

- Gachapoid

- Dory (Finding Nemo)

- Reg (Made in Abyss)

- Walter White (Breaking Bad)

- Jeremiah (Animal Crossing)

- Beast Boy (Teen Titans)

- Ame Chan (Needy Streamer Overload)

- A.B.A (Guilty Gear)

- Mr. Boss (Smiling Friends)

- Pearl (Steven Universe)

- Spinel (Steven Universe)

- Daisuke (Mouthwashing)

- Anya (Mouthwashing)

Friends Kin Assigned Me

- "Maora" Yoshitaka Ichinomiya (The Gentlemen's Alliance Cross)

- "Jinx" Powder (Arcane)

- Caitlyn (Arcane)

-Terrance (Pixie Hollow)

-Moral Orel

-Mephesto (Blue Exorcist)

[mayhemxmugglesxmagic]

Narcissa: I swear to Salazar, Draco -- If you're lying ...

Draco: Greg saw it too, Mum.

Narcissa: Gregory, is easily led.

Greg: Aye, Mrs. M. I am. Thank you.

[babygirlhq]

(avan jogia, they/them, spirit warrior) to [SUNNY RAY], the whole world looks like an open page. with a leap of faith, their ability of [PYROKINESIS, HEAT RESISTANCE] grows a little stronger. they’re pledged to the [HOUSE FRASER] to defend the enchanted lands of cagliostro with their [FIRE FLOWER KEYCHAIN]. for [THIRTY] years, they have survived a world of magic with both their [EASY-GOING] and [OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD]. they work as a [ROYAL KNIGHT], but if they could change their fate, they’d want to [MAKE EVERYONE IN THE WORLD REMEMBER THEIR NAME] 

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Sunjay Gregory Ray NICKNAME: Sunny, Matchstick, Flame-head, Asshole, Dumbass, any other derogatory term for fuckboys ALIAS: Sunny WARRIOR HOUSE: House Fraser AGE: 30 GENDER: Non-Binary PRONOUNS: They/Them ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual RELIGION: N/A SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English, Spanish BIRTH PLACE: Selphia, Cagliostro OCCUPATION: Full time Superhero, baby!! IDENTITY: Publicly Known

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: DECEASED SISTER: W/C BROTHER-IN-LAW: W/C NIECE: W/C NEPHEW: W/C SIGNIFICANT OTHER: N/A CHILDREN: N/A (???)

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR: Brown HAIR COLOUR: Brown HEIGHT: 5'10, 178 cm BODY BUILD: Fit TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: Ears pierced / fire flower tattoo on his chest, couple of other small tattoos scattered over his body NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: Can literally set himself on fire idk

PERSONALITY

INTELLIGENCE: 7/10 LIKES: Cars, Attention, Pranks, hot girls, hot boys, hot alien girls, hot alien boys, anyone that is hot but does not identify as any of the afore mentioned, bacon, pepsi DISLIKES: Being ignored, Failure, Getting told what to do, Those bubble blower toys

BIOGRAPHY

Sunny and their older sister lived their boring little lives uneventfully in Selphia until their mother, died in a car accident. Their father, a doctor, failed to save her. Despondent, their father descended into booze and gambling, eventually winding up in a penitentiary for murder. The children went to live with their aunt. Growing up in suburban Selphia, Sunny was drawn to cars despite their mother’s death in a car accident, and became quite a mechanic at a young age. While still a teenager, they selflessly rescued two of their friends from a burning building, and the praise that came after quickly prompted him to became one of the royal knights.

Following their sister, they became a spirit warrior under House Fraser and soon made a little group of royal knights, saving Selphia many times from impending doom. While their sister and soon their brother-in-law decided to step back from the public and concentrate on their academic achievements, Sunny immersed themself in the sweet life of a Selphian hero everybody knew. They enjoy their celebrity status, participating in game shows, reality shows, becoming a social media influencer, releasing some trashy pop-singles, and of course, saving the world. 

[mishinashen]

Saint Augustine in Ecstasy by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo

When seen in the most impressive gathering of seventeenth-century Spanish painting outside of Spain in the collection of Marshal Soult, Dr. G.F. Waagen singled out the present painting by Murillo as 'the finest [single-figure picture] I know of the master': The intense longing for [Saint Augustine's] Lord, expressed in the fine features and beautiful eyes and the speaking gestures of the admirable hands, render the following inscription almost superfluous--'Inquietum est cormeum donec perveniat ad te' [My heart is restless until it comes to you]. As respects pictures of single figures, this is the finest I know of the master; for the grandly expressed moral intention is here combined with unusual decision of forms, with a light and transparent golden coloring in the flesh-tones, with a fine arrangement of harmoniously and powerfully colored drapery, which is lined with a beautiful cherry brown, and, finally, with a solid and sustained execution in a rich body. The general dark tint of the background, with only a curtain, sets off the striking effect of the figure. I have already seen and admired this chef-d'oeuvre in the collection of Marshal Soult at Paris. The Marshal Jean de Dieu Soult collection included masterpieces by Murillo and Francisco de Zurbarán and provided many French artists with their first important contact with Spanish painting. Among them was the Romantic painter par excellence, Eugène Delacroix, who, on 30 November 1853, emphasized the quality of the Murillos above the work of any other painter in the renowned group: 'I was talking to [Paul Delaroche] one day about Marshal Soult's wonderful Murillos, and he was willing to allow me to marvel at them'. Marshal Soult amassed his impressive collection while serving as Napoleon's commander of the French army of the South during the Peninsular War (1808-14). Seville, renowned for its artistic treasures, was of particular interest for the French; and on 1 February 1810 Soult entered the city and established his residence at the archbishop's palace (fig. 1), a sumptuous Baroque building housing paintings by Valdés Leal and Francisco da Herrera the Elder as well as Murillo's Virgin and Child (Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool). Subsequent military victories contributed to Soult's acquisition of paintings from local religious institutions and from the city's depository in the Alcázar. Soult returned to Paris in 1812 with approximately 180 Spanish paintings, including Murillo's iconic Immaculate Conception (Prado, Madrid). Apart from a magnanimous donation of works by Murillo and Zurbarán to the Louvre (then Musée Napoléon) in 1813, Soult housed his pictures in his Paris town house on the rue de l'Université, which became an unofficial academy of Spanish painting. It was immediately the most important private collection of Spanish paintings outside Spain. (The posthumous sale of the Soult collection in 1852 listed seventy-eight paintings from the Seville school alone). For further reading on Marshal Soult's collection of Spanish paintings, see I.C. Rivero, 'Seville's Artistic Heritage during the French Occupation', in Manet/Velázquez: The French Taste for Spanish Painting, New York, 2003, pp. 93-113. Bartolomé Esteban Murillo was the leading exponent of the seventeenth-century Sevillan school, which was known for its seamless blend of realism and sentimental beauty in painting. Murillo was born and trained in Seville, where he learned the rudiments of his art from Juan del Castillo, a vital contact for the city's leading artists, including Alonso Cano. In 1645 Murillo received his first important religious commission, scenes illustrating the miracles of Franciscan saints for the convent of San Francisco in Seville. At the time he was influenced by the tenebrism associated with Francisco de Zurbarán. In 1658, at the height of his career, Murillo travelled to the royal court at Madrid, where he befriended Diego Velázquez. As court painter to Philip IV, Velázquez was the key to the city's most important collections, which included works by Titian and Rubens. By 1660 Murillo had successfully appropriated both the compositional grandeur of cinquecento Venetian painting and the technical brilliance of Rubens. The artist's last two decades represent his period of greatest activity, during which time his tonal range was simplified and his use of colors limited primarily to shades of gray and brown. Between 1666 and 1670 Murillo painted his monumental Saint Augustine contemplating the Virgin and the Crucifixion (Prado, Madrid; fig. 2) for the altar of the church of San Agustín in Seville. The present version, dated 1665-75 by Angulo Iñiguez, is a reverse of that composition and concentrates on the emotional immediacy of Augustine's vision. Saint Augustine (354-430) served many roles throughout his life, including Bishop of Hippo (North Africa) and one of the four Latin Fathers of the Catholic Church (along with Saints Ambrose, Gregory and Jerome). In the visual arts, he is identified by the dress, mitre and crozier of a bishop and by a short, dark beard. However, Augustine's principal attribute is a flaming heart, a symbol of his religious fervor and one particularly appropriate for Counter-Reformation Spain. For further reading on the legend of Saint Augustine, see J. and P. Courcelle, Iconographie de Saint Augustin, Paris, 1972. In the present work Murillo faithfully depicts the Christian saint surrounded by the appropriate attributes, viz. the bishop's crozier and mitre on the right and the flaming heart surrounded by the following inscription on the upper left: 'INQUIETUM EST COR MEUM DONEC PERVENIAT AD TE', yet under his pluvial Murillo's Augustine wears the black cowl of the Augustinian hermits, who believed that this was the saint's own dress as opposed to the white robe sanctioned by the Augustinian Canons. Murillo appropriates the pose of his figure from Anthony van Dyck's Ecstasy of Saint Augustine (c. 1628; Antwerp, Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten; fig. 3), a composition well known in Seville through numerous engravings. Murillo's Saint Augustine in Ecstasy was last sold at auction at Christie's, London, in 1933, along with Murillo's iconic Christ healing the Paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda (National Gallery, London; fig. 4), both from the estate of George Pretyman of Orwell Park, Ipswich.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

books i actually like

A solid 97% of my ‘book reviews’ (for lack of a better term) are bound to be just me bitching about said book for way too long with way too many expletives, because books I genuinely adore rarely invoke the visceral reaction within me that causes so many of my ‘reviews’ of books I don’t like to be so impassioned and long-winded. Here’s to kicking this dumpster fire off with a little positivity, because that will be little and far in between henceforth.

Harry Potter – J. K. Foul Thing I never understood how someone could appreciate the art and not the artist until Harry Potter. JKR’s dead to me, but the seven original (and only, because I refuse to accept the flaming pile of dog shit that was The Cursed Child as canon) books remain i c o n i c. And you’ll probably witness a LOT of Harry Potter-inspired shitposting on my part if you decide to stick around, because Harry Potter trivia makes up a solid chunk of my personality, and I like to shove my fandoms in other people’s faces. Again, I’m cute like that.

The Diary of a Young Girl – Anne Frank By some odd coincidence, my mum got me Anne Frank’s diary for my 13th birthday, and I always felt like a Super Special Snowflake because of that. Obviously, I can’t relate to being Jewish and in hiding during WWII, but there’s a lot of Anne’s views and thoughts that… resonated with me (ain’t that the most basic-ass description of a book, ever). There’s always the lingering sadness while reading because you know how her story comes to an end, but it’s a book that’s still stuck with me six years later, and for the rest of my mortal life.

The Book Thief – Markus Zusak Why Must I Adore Books That Give Me Naught but Pain: An Autobiography.

Freak the Mighty – Rodman Philbrick Ditto.

Bad Alice – Jean Ure When I first saw the cover, I expected a lighthearted, cheery book. I was very much mistaken. Duffy, a self-proclaimed ‘oddball’, and Alice, another self-proclaimed ‘oddball’, are easily two of my favorite fictional characters, ever. The subject matter is pretty damn dark and rereading the book as an adult is actually kind of scary, but it’s so well-written and engaging and this sounds like I’m an elementary school teacher writing a report card so I’m just gonna stop here.

Tiger Eyes – Judy Blume A true Relic of the angst-riddled phase of my adolescence (I say as if I am not still going through said angst-riddled phase). I’ve been a fan of Judy Blume’s work since one of the girls in my third-grade class bestowed upon me Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing; growing up, I’ve become more detached from Blume’s work but Tiger Eyes is a book that’s never gotten old for me. Davey, the angst-riddled adolescent protagonist, is also stubborn and headstrong and angry and scarily relatable to myself at her age, though under wildly different circumstances.

Changeling – Philippa Gregory I’ve read a couple of Goodreads reviews on the Order of Darkness series, and I’ve garnered that Philippa Gregory fans (Philippans? Philipinos?) are not fans of the series. I can’t vouch for that, given that I’ve only ever read the said series, and I’m admittedly not a fan of books two through four (which is basically every book of the series published to date, exempting the first), but Changeling is a book I liked enough to attempt to handwrite it in a notebook back when I was 12 (I gave up after, like, two sentences because my hand started cramping), and also to try and write a ripoff, featuring an angsty young preteen girl with (short) wavy black hair and eyes like limpid tears (gee, I wonder who that could be) (my eyes are brown, though; I dunno why I wrote the self-insert to be blue-eyed).

The Secret History – Donna Tartt My first foray into dark academia; sadly, reading The Secret History before any other books in the (sub?)genre made every other book pale in comparison. What’s so special about The Secret History for me is that I hate every main character, with passion. Each and every one of them; not just Bunny, but Richard and Henry and Charles and Camilla and Francis and Julian can all go fuck themselves for all I care- but I find them so fascinating. The story and the way it’s written is pretty over-the-top dramatic and my struggling bilingual arse had to look up every tenth word or so, but I adore it with every fibre of my being. Well, the leftover fibres of my being that aren’t simping over Kim Seungmin.

A Series of Unfortunate Events – Lemony Snicket Does this count as the first step of my emo phase? Shoutout to the girl in seventh grade I sat next to for, like, two weeks, who lent me The Wide Window and got me hooked on the series.

Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll This entire book feels so trippy.

The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett It’s corny and Everything Works Out Swell for the Goody Guys in the End! in period-typical book fashion, but it got me through many a boring class in the spring of my ninth year of personhood, so I’ll always have a soft spot for Mary and Dickon and Colin and the rest of the gang. It also inspired me to Cultivate, and there are two pretty bougainvillea plants in my garden thanks to one Mary Lennox.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post – Emily M. Danforth Cameron Post: the lesbian baddie we all aspire to be.

Vicky Angel – Jacqueline Wilson Yet another shoutout to my seventh-grade seatmate for lending me her copy of Vicky Angel, which I read under my covers like it was a bloody nudie mag.

A Song of Ice and Fire – George R. R. Martin Where’s Winds of Winter, George?

Turtles All the Way Down – John Green Paper Towns used to be my favorite John Green book until I read Turtles All the Way Down last year. I adore John Green’s writing style (maybe not the #deep #woke #sadboi #middleclass #white #male #cisgender #heterosexual #personalityofabreadroll leads in a solid chunk of his books, though) and okay, so maybe Davis fits all of the above, but my true faves are Aza and Daisy and their dynamic.

To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee I keep calling this ‘HOW to Kill a Mockingbird’ in conversations and it gets really fucking inconvenient.

Coraline – Neil Gaiman I just wish I’d read this sooner than I did.

[aadeguzman]

SERMON XIV. QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY – DELUSIONS OF SINNERS ~ St Alphonsus

Delusions Of Sinners

“Lord, that I may see.” LUKE xviii. 41

1. THE Devil brings sinners to hell by closing their eyes to the dangers of perdition. He first blinds them, and then leads them with himself to eternal torments. If, then, we wish to be saved, we must continually pray to God in the words of the blind man in the gospel of this day, “Lord, that I may see.” Give me light: make me see the way in which I must walk in order to save my soul, and to escape the deceits of the enemy of salvation. I shall, brethren, this day place before your eyes the delusion by which the devil tempts men to sin and to persevere in sin, that you may know how to guard yourselves against his deceitful artifices.

2. To understand these delusions better, let us imagine the case of a young man who, seized by some passion, lives in sin, the slave of Satan, and never thinks of his eternal salvation. My son, I say to him, what sort of life do you lead? If you continue to live in this manner, how will you be able to save your soul? But, behold! the devil, on the other hand, says to him: Why should you be afraid of being lost? Indulge your passions for the present: you will afterwards confess your sins, and thus all shall be remedied. Behold the net by which the devil drags so many souls into hell. “Indulge your passions: you will hereafter make a good confession.” But, in reply, I say, that in the meantime you lose your soul. Tell me: if you had a jewel worth a thousand pounds, would you throw it into a river with the hope of afterwards finding it again? What if all your efforts to find it were fruitless? God! you hold in your hand the invaluable jewel of your soul, which Jesus Christ has purchased with his own blood, and you cast it into hell! Yes; you cast it into hell; because according to the present order of providence, for every mortal sin you commit, your name is written among the number of the damned. But you say. “I hope to recover God’s grace by making a good confession.” And if you should not recover it, what shall be the consequences? To make a good confession, a true sorrow for sin is necessary, and this sorrow is the gift of God: if he does not give it, will you not be lost for ever?

3. You rejoin: “I am young; God compassionates my youth; I will hereafter give myself to God.” Behold another delusion! You are young; but do you not know that God counts, not the years, but the sins of each individual? You are young; but how many sins have you committed? Perhaps there are many persons of a very advanced age, who have not been guilty of the fourth part of the sins which you have committed. And do you not know that God has fixed for each of us the number of sins which he will pardon?” The Lord patiently expecteth, that, when the day of judgment shall come, he may punish them in the fulness of their sins.” (2 Mach. vi. 14.) God has patience, and waits for a while; but, when the measure of the sins which he has determined to pardon is tilled up, he pardons no more, but chastises the sinner, by suddenly depriving him of life in the miserable state of sin, or by abandoning him in his sin, and executing that threat which he made by the prophet Isaias” I shall take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be wasted.” (Isa. v. 5.) If a person has cultivated land for many years, has encompassed it with a hedge for its protection, and expended a large sum of money on it, but finds that, after all, it produces no fruit, what will he do with it? He will pluck up the hedge, and abandon it to all men and beasts that may wish to enter. Tremble, then, lest God should treat you in a similar manner. If you do not give up sin, your remorse of conscience and your fear of divine chastisement shall daily increase. Behold the hedge taken away, and your soul abandoned by God a punishment worse than death itself.

4. You say: “I cannot at present resist this passion.” Behold the third delusion of the devil, by which he makes you believe that at present you have not strength to overcome certain temptations. But St. Paul tells us that God is faithful, and that he never permits us to be tempted above our strength. “And God is faithful, who will not permit you to be tempted above that which you are able.” (1 Cor. x. 13.) I ask, if you are not now able to resist the temptation, how can you expect to resist it hereafter? If you yield to it, the Devil will become stronger, and you shall become weaker; and if you be not now able to extinguish this flame of passion, how can you hope to be able to extinguish it when it shall have grown more violent? You say: “God will give me his aid.” But this aid God is ready to give at present if you ask it. Why then do you not implore his assistance? Perhaps you expect that, without now taking the trouble of invoking his aid, you will receive from him increased helps and graces, after you shall have multiplied the number of your sins? Perhaps you doubt the veracity of God, who has promised to give whatever we ask of him? “Ask,” he says, “and it shall be given you.” (Matt. vii. 7.) God cannot violate his promises. ”God is not as man, that he should lie, nor as the son of man, that he should be changed. Hath he said, then, and will he not do?” (Num. xxiii. 19.) Have recourse to him, and he will give you the strength necessary to resist the temptation. God commands you to resist it, and you say: “I have not strength.” Does God, then, command impossibilities? No; the Council of Trent has declared that “God does not command impossibilities; but, by his commands, he admonishes you to do what you can, and to ask what you cannot do; and he assists, that you may be able to do it.” (Sess. 6. c. xiii.) When you see that you have not sufficient strength to resist temptation with the ordinary assistance of God, ask of him the additional help which you require, and he will give it to you; and thus you shall be able to conquer all temptations, however violent they may be.

5. But you will not pray; and you say that at present you will commit this sin, and will afterwards confess it. But, I ask, how do you know that God will give you time to confess it? You say: “I will go to confession before the lapse of a week.” And who has promised you this week? Well, then you say: ” I will go to confession tomorrow.” And who promises you tomorrow? “Crastinum Deus non promisit,” says St. Augustine, “fortasse dabit, et fortasse non dabit.” God has not promised you to-morrow. Perhaps he will give it, and perhaps he will refuse it to you, as he has to so many others. How many have gone to bed in good health, and have been found dead in the morning! How many, in the very act of sin, has the Lord struck dead and sent to hell! Should this happen to you, how will you repair your eternal ruin?”Commit this sin, and confess it afterwards.” Behold the deceitful artifice by which the devil has brought so many thousands of Christians to hell. We scarcely ever find a Christian so sunk in despair as to intend to damn himself. All the wicked sin with the hope of afterwards going to confession. But, by this illusion, how many have brought themselves to perdition! For them there is now no time for confession, no remedy for their damnation.

6. ”But God is merciful.” Behold another common delusion by which the devil encourages sinners to persevere in a life of sin! A certain author has said, that more souls have been sent to hell by the mercy of God than by his justice. This is indeed the case; for men are induced by the deceits of the devil to persevere in sin, through confidence in Gods mercy; and thus they are lost. “God is merciful.” Who denies it? But, great as his mercy, how many does he every day send to hell? God is merciful, but he is also just, and is, therefore, obliged to punish those who offend him. ”And his mercy,” says the divine mother, ”to them that fear him.” (Luke i. 50.) But with regard to those who abuse his mercy and despise him, he exercises justice. The Lord pardons sins, but he cannot pardon the determination to commit sin. St. Augustine says, that he who sins with the intention of repenting after his sins, is not a penitent but a scoffer. ”Irrisor est non poenitens.” But the Apostle tells us that God will not be mocked. ”Be not deceived; God is not mocked.” (Gal. vi. 7.) It would be a mockery of God to insult him as often and as much as you pleased, and afterwards to expect eternal glory.

7. “But”; you say, “as God has shown me so many mercies hitherto, I hope he will continue to do so for the future.” Behold another delusion! Then, because God has not as yet chastised your sins, he will never punish them! On the contrary, the greater have been his mercies, the more you should tremble, lest, if you offend him again, he should pardon you no more, and should take vengeance on your sins. Behold the advice of the Holy Ghost: ”Say not: I have sinned, and what harm hath befallen me? for the Most High is a patient rewarder.” (Eccles. v. 4.) Do not say: “I have sinned, and no chastisement has fallen upon me.” God bears for a time, but not for ever. He waits for a certain time; but when that arrives, he then chastises the sinner for all his past iniquities: and the longer he has waited for repentance, the more severe the chastisement. ”Quos diutius expectat,” says St. Gregory, ”durius damnat.” Then, my brother, since you know that you have frequently offended God, and that he has not sent you to hell, you should exclaim: ”The mercies of the Lord, that we are not consumed.” (Thren. iii. 22.) Lord, I thank you for not having sent me to hell, which I have so often deserved. And therefore you ought to give yourself entirely to God, at least through gratitude, and should consider that, for less sins than you have committed, many are now in that pit of fire, without the smallest hope of being ever released from it. The patience of God in bearing with you, should teach you not to despise him still more, but to love and serve him with greater fervour, and to atone, by penitential austerities and by other holy works, for the insults you have offered to him. You know that he has shown mercies to you, which he has not shown to others. ”He hath not done in like manner to every nation.” (Ps. cxlvii. 20.) Hence you should tremble, lest, if you commit a single additional mortal sin, God should abandon you, and cast you into hell.

8. Let us come to the next illusion. “It is true that, by this sin, I lose the grace of God; but, even after committing this sin, I may be saved.” You may, indeed, be saved: but it cannot be denied that if, after having committed so many sins, and after having received so many graces from God, you again offend him, there is great reason to fear that you shall be lost. Attend to the words of the sacred Scripture: “A hard heart shall fare evil at the last.” (Eccles. iii. 27.) The obstinate sinner shall die an unhappy death. Evil doers shall be cut off.” (Ps. xxxvi. 9.) The wicked shall be cut off by the divine justice. “For what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap.” (Gal. vi. 8.) He that sows in sin, shall reap eternal torments. “Because I called and you refused, I also will laugh in your destruction and will mock when that shall come to you which you feared.” (Prov. i. 24, 26.) I called, says the Lord, and you mocked me; but I will mock you at the hour of death. “Revenge is mine, and I will repay them in due time.” (Deut. xxxii. 35.) The chastisement of sins belongs to me, and I will execute vengeance on them when the time of vengeance shall arrive. “The man that with a stiff neck despiseth him that reproveth him, shall suddenly be destroyed, and health shall not follow him.” (Prov. xxix. 1.) The man who obstinately despises those who correct him, shall be punished with a sudden death, and for him there shall be no hope of salvation.

9. Now, brethren, what think you of these divine threats against sinners? Is it easy, or is it not very difficult, to save your souls, if, after so many divine calls, and after so many mercies, you continue to offend God? You say: “But after all, it may happen that I will save my soul.” I answer: “What folly is it to trust your salvation to a perhaps? How many with this “perhaps I may be saved,” are now in hell? Do you wish to be one of their unhappy companions? Dearly beloved Christians, enter into yourselves, and tremble; for this sermon may be the last of Gods mercies to you.

[orthodoxydaily]

Icon, Saints&Reading: Sat, Sept., 3, 2021

September 7/ August 22

MARTYR EULALIA OF BARCELONA (303)

The Martyr Eulalia lived in Spain, near the city of Barcionum (now Barcelona), and she was raised by her parents in piety and the Christian Faith. Already at fourteen years of age, the maiden spent a solitary life in her parental home with others of her own age, occupied in prayer, the reading of Holy Scripture, and handicrafts.

During the time of a persecution against Christians under the emperors Diocletian (284-305) and Maximian (305-311), the governor Dacian arrived in the city of Barcionum to rid it of Christians. Hearing of this, the maiden secretly left her home at night, and by morning had made her way into the city. Pushing her way through the throng of people, the girl made a bold denunciation of the judge for forcing people to renounce the True God in order to offer sacrifice to devils instead.

Dacian gave orders to strip the girl and beat her with rods, but she steadfastly endured the torment and told the judge that the Lord would deliver her from the pain. They tied the martyr to a tree and tore her skin with iron claws, and they then burned her wounds with torches.

During her torment, Dacian asked the saint, “Where then is your God, Whom you have called upon?” She answered that the Lord was beside her, but that Dacian in his impurity could not see Him. During the saint’s prayer: “Behold, God helps me, and the Lord is the defender of my soul” (Ps. 53/54:4), the flames of the torches turned back upon the torturers, who fell to the ground.

The Martyr Eulalia began to pray that the Lord would take her to Heaven to Himself, and with this prayer she died. People saw a white dove come from her mouth and fly up to Heaven. Then a sudden snowstorm covered the martyr’s naked body like a white garment (the saint’s commemoration is sometimes given as December 10, which may be more correct, in view of the snow).

Three days later, the martyr’s parents came and wept before her hanging body, but they were also glad that their daughter would be numbered among the saints. When they took Saint Eulalia from the tree, one of the Christians, named Felix, said with tears of joy: “Lady Eulalia, you are the first of us to win the martyr’s crown!”

Saint Felix himself soon accepted death for Christ, and is also commemorated on this day.

ICON:  Mother of God of Georgia

In 1622, the Persian Shah Abbas I, after the devastating invasion of Orthodox Georgia, took part of the Robe of the Lord, and some especially revered icons. Three years later, when the Russian clerk Stephen Lazarev, who was in Persia to do some trading, a certain person from the Shah's retinue offered to let him purchase one of the stolen Georgian icons: an icon of the Most Holy Theotokos. At the same time, at Yaroslavl, the merchant Gregory Lytkin, by whom Stephen was employed, had a revelation of his clerk's imminent arrival with the precious acquisition.

Lytkin had been instructed by a voice from above to take the Icon from Yaroslavl to Arkhangelsk, near the Pinega River. Here, 16 versts from Kholmogorsk, was the Black Mountain monastery (which took its name from the mountain, on which a church was built in 1603.) Later, it was called Krasnogorsk (Beautiful Mountain).

Here the merchant delivered the Georgian Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos in 1629, during the reign of Tsar Michael. On August 22, with a large contingent of the faithful, the Icon was reverently placed in the monastery. At the same time, the miraculous healing of the blind and deaf monk Pitirim took place. The subsequent manifestations of the Icon's miraculous power prompted Metropolitan Nikon of Novgorod (later the Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia) to investigate. Afterward, from 1650, the annual celebration of this Icon took place on August 22, the day of its arrival at Krasnogorsk Monastery.

From that time, the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God was brought to Arkhangelsk each year with honors. The revered Icon was left for a certain time in the main cathedral of the city, for the sanctification of the city and of the Christ-loving people. During the reign of Tsar Alexei (1645-1676), the miraculous Icon was taken to Vologda, Great Ustyug, Pereyaslavl-Zalessky, and Siberia.

In 1654, Hieromonk Makarios of Krasnogorsk Monastery brought the Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos (which had been brought from Persia) to Moscow for restoration, and to be covered with a new riza. It was placed in the newly-built church, dedicated to the Life-giving Trinity, at Nikitnikov Lane near the Saint Barbara Gate, where the Kremlin masters carried on their iconographic work. Gregory Nikitnikov had built the church on his property at his own expense (1628-1651). In the church was a chapel dedicated to Saint Nikḗtas (September 15). Members of the Nikitnikov family were also entombed there.

About that time, a plague or pestilence was raging in Moscow. At the request of the master silversmith Gabriel Evdokimov, whose son was near death, a Moleben was served in his house before the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God from Krasnogorsk Monastery. The patient soon recovered. In gratitude for this miraculous healing, a copy of Georgian Icon was made and placed in Holy Trinity church. From that time, the church was also called Georgian.

The gracious help of the Most Holy Theotokos continued to be conferred by the aforementioned copy of her Icon. During the plague epidemic of 1654, the Moscow merchant Stephanov prayed continuously to the Queen of Heaven. The Most Holy Virgin appeared to him three times in a dream saying: "Pray to the Georgian Theotokos, on the Glinishchi at the mills, and you will be spared." The Holy Trinity church at Nikitniki was also called the church of the Great Martyr Nikḗtas (one of the chapels) on Glinishchi, near the mills. The merchant did not take his family from Moscow as he intended, but began to pray fervently in the Holy Trinity church. The epidemic did not touch him or his family.

The Churchwide celebration of the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God was established with the blessing of Patriarch Nikon in 1654. In 1698, the caretaker of the Moscow printing house Theodore Polikarpov compiled a second edition of the Service.

After the liberation of Moscow from Napoleon's troops, on December 1, 1812 the wonderworking Georgian Icon of the Mother of God, along with other miraculous Icons of the Most Holy Theotokos (Vladimir, Iveron, and Assuage my Sorrows) were carried in solemn procession around the Kremlin.

In 1904, a chapel was built in Holy Trinity church in honor of the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God. Now this Icon is in the church of the Holy Trinity in Nikitnikov (Razin Street).

Miraculous healings were granted by the Most Holy Theotokos through her wonderworking Icon, which were documented and verified at the end of the XIX century. For example, on June 17, 1887, Lydia Tserkovnitskaya, the wife of a priest in the village of Shuysk, Vologda Province, was critically ill. She recovered after praying before the wonderworking Georgian Icon. There is historical evidence of four more Georgian icons of the Most Holy Theotokos.

Concerning the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God, which was in Moscow's Alekseevsky Convent, church evidence reports that it is not a copy of the Icons from Krasnogorsk Monastery nor from Holy Trinity church at Nikitnikov, which were brought from Georgia. In the same deadly plague epidemic of 1654, one of the nuns at the Alekseev Convent fell ill. While she addressed long prayers to the Heavenly Healer, the sick woman suddenly remembered the miraculous recovery she had heard about from the Icon of the Mother of God, which is in the church of the Life-giving Trinity by Saint Barbara's Gate. However, there was no one to send there. After some time, an unknown monk came to the Convent. Turning to the sick nun, he said: "Do not be sad that the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God cannot be brought here. You have here exactly the same Icon as the one brought from Georgia. You will find it in the cave, and you shall behold God's mercy."

The allegorical meaning of these words became clear afterward in the monastery sacristy, which was laid out like caves, when a hitherto unknown Icon of the Mother of God was discovered. After a Moleben, the miraculous Icon was carried to the cells of the nuns who were suffering from the pestilence. All of them were healed. From that time, the epidemic in Moscow began to abate.

Through the prayerful intercession of the Georgian Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos at the Alekseev Convent, the blind Princess Martha Prozorovskaya received miraculous healing in 1662. She gained her sight by the prayers of her parents, after seven years of serious illness.

To the northwest of Kazan, 18 versts from the city of Sviyazhsk, in the middle of the XVII century was the Raithu communal Hermitage of the Theotokos, which got its name from one of its churches, which was dedicated to the Venerable Fathers slain at Sinai and Raithu (January 14). Tradition states that during the construction of the monastery, Metropolitan Laurence of Kazan, by a revelation from above, sent the best local iconographers to Pinega, to the Krasnogorsk Monastery, which was very far from Kazan, in order to make a faithful copy of the wonderworking Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos, which was brought from Persia.

In 1661, a skillfully executed copy of the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God was delivered from Arkhangelsk. It became highly revered by the local population. Subsequently, this Icon was placed in the cathedral church in honor of the Most Holy Theotokos.

In the XVIII century, the pious peasants of the village of Klyucharev, Korchev county, Tver Province, presented the caretaker of the Moscow Archangel Cathedral with a copy of the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God, which became highly regarded by the locals, when the rye crop was threatened with destruction in the late 1860s. Vast fields of newly-sprouted crops were being eaten by an unknown worm, and nothing they did was of any use. Then the peasants prayed for help to the Most Holy Theotokos, whose Georgian Icon they revered. After a Cross Procession around the fields with the Icon, a sudden, unprecedented torrential rain fell. Streams of water washed the worms out of the ground, which were eaten by a large flock of birds. See also other revered copies of the Georgian Icon of the Mother of God in the Protection church at Vorontsov Field, and in the Holy Cross Church in the city of Tula.

The Icon disappeared after the closure of the monastery (1920-1922), and later it was returned to the monastery. In his 1946 report to the Moscow Patriarchate, Bishop Leonty (Smirnov) of Arkhangelsk states that the Georgian Icon was carried in a procession, which took place at Arkhangelsk in 1946. The further fate of the Georgian Icon is unknown.

MATTHEW 19:3-12

3 The Pharisees also came to Him, testing Him, and saying to Him, "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for just any reason?" 4 And He answered and said to them, "Have you not read that He who made them at the beginning 'made them male and female,' 5 and said, 'For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh'? 6 So then, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let not man separate. 7 They said to Him, "Why then did Moses command to give a certificate of divorce, and to put her away?" 8 He said to them, "Moses, because of the hardness of your hearts, permitted you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so. 9 And I say to you, whoever divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another, commits adultery; and whoever marries her who is divorced commits adultery. 10 His disciples said to Him, "If such is the case of the man with his wife, it is better not to marry." 11 But He said to them, "All cannot accept this saying, but only those to whom it has been given: 12 For there are eunuchs who were born thus from their mother's womb, and there are eunuchs who were made eunuchs by men, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake. He who is able to accept it, let him accept it.

1 CORINTHIANS 1:3-9

3 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 4 I thank my God always concerning you for the grace of God which was given to you by Christ Jesus, 5 that you were enriched in everything by Him in all utterance and all knowledge, 6 even as the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you, 7 so that you come short in no gift, eagerly waiting for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ, 8 who will also confirm you to the end, that you may be blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

[crzcorgi]

Words with Friends...with benefits

For the beautiful @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash ‘s “Ash’s Birthday Negan Challenge”

AU Negan x Librarian Reader (y/n)

My prompt was Words with Friends

Word Count ~4500

Warnings ~ NSFW with lots of smuffy (smut/fluffy) fun

@negans-network

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking cracker, what the fuck is this?!” I slammed the piece of paper on the principal’s desk.

 “Mr. Negan. Would you please refrain from using profanities while in the school.”

 “What the f…ever. What is…” I pointed at the paper. “THIS?!”

 “It’s Words With Friends, a game Mr. Negan. Basically it’s Scrabble and…”

 “Yeah, yeah, I know all that. But this fu… says we’re going to be playing it with the other teachers. Say what?”

 “Yes, well, we’ve been seeing a lot less camaraderie among the staff, less of the help your neighbor. Aren’t we all here for the same reasons? To help shape tomorrow’s leaders, to help them grow and learn in a healthy environment. Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

 Old fucker was babbling some shittin’ nonsense and I had pretty much tuned him out. “Yeah, okay. Do we get to choose who we’re partnered with cause I’m thinking that new nurse might be…”

 “No, Mr. Negan, we will choose your partner. In fact, let me see…” He started shuffling through some papers, pulling one out of the pile. “Yes, here it is. Your playing with Ms Y/L/N!”

 “Uh, who the f…who’s that?!” I was dreading the shithead’s answer.

“She’s the new librarian! How fortuitous Mr. Negan! Imagine that!” He had the biggest stupid fucking grin on his fucking fat face.

 “Jesus, Gregory! You fucking did that on purpose! Pair the gym coach with probably the biggest egg-fucking-head in the whole damn school. Probably has a fucking stick so far up her scrawny ass it’s sticking out of her mouth. No, not doing it.”

 He sighed, he’s fucking beady eyes blinking quickly at me. “Mr. Negan, you know what I’m going to say. You will be play this game I’m afraid, or you will be looking for another job.”

 I laughed, “you can’t fucking fire me because I refuse to play a fucking nerd game, Gregory.”

 “Negan.”

 “Gregy.”

He stood up, walking around to stand beside me. “Come on, the others, the teachers, they see you playing along, it looks good, you know?  I don’t ask much from you, do I? I let you pretty much rule your roost, give you all the funds you need, right? Can’t you do this one thing for me?”

 “Begging Gregory? Isn’t that fucking beneath you?” I ran my hand over my chin thinking about how I fucking needed a shave. “Fine, I’ll do it. But this Ms…”

 “Ms. Y/L/N.”

 “Yeah, Ms. Y/L/N she better not be one of those uptight bitches that can’t take a little joking around. I don’t need her running here to tattle on me. Jesus.”

 “Negan, to be fair, Ms. Simon was 75 years old and you were telling highly inappropriate jokes in the library no less.”

 “Old bat needed to get a sense of humor.” I started for the door. “So what do I need to do Gregory?”

 “Report to the library after school, our first round of Words begins today.”

 “And my fucking team practice?”

 “Will just be late today. They’ll just have to practice without you for an hour.”

 I opened the door. “Fine, whatever. You owe me. Fucking big.”

 He smiled, a big stupid fucking grin. “You have a good day, Mr. Negan.”

 “Yeah, what the fuck ever.”

 I wanted the fucking day to be over. But I also wasn’t looking forward to the afternoon. Whatever I’d done to piss off the gods I wish I could take it back. Words with Friends, what the ever loving fuckity fuck?!

 As I made my way to the library at 2:30, I remembered that I had a date the next night. A fucking hottie that worked at the sandwich shop down the street from my house. Fuck, I needed to get laid like yesterday. I’d been in a bit of a fucking dry spell. But I saw a tsunami coming my way and I was fucking ready with my surfboard. I was gonna ride that wave until I couldn’t fucking move.

 “Mr. Negan, Gregory said you agreed to game time but I didn’t believe it!”

 “Yeah, well fucking surprise Mrs. Smith.”

 I rolled my eyes behind her back, I spotted an empty seat toward the back of tables that were set up in rows, game boards set up on each one.  I sat down, leaning back and closing my eyes, thinking about tomorrow night.

 “Excuse me, Mrs. Smith pointed me back here. Are you Mr.Negan?”

 For a minute I thought I was fucking dreaming and a sexy fucking angel was speaking. But I opened my eyes to who I assumed was Ms. Y/L/N, the new librarian and my partner. With a bun. Dressed like a nun. And glasses so fucking thick I couldn’t even tell if she had eyes that needed those glasses.”

 “Yeah, I’m Negan.” I stood up, pulling her chair out for her. “You must be Ms. Y/L/N?”  Pushing her chair back in, I noticed she had what looked like a tattoo, that was partially covered up by makeup, behind her ear. Hmmm.

 “Yes, I’m her. But you can call me Y/N, we’re both adults.” She giggled, a sweet sound.

 “So, looks like we’re fucking partners, huh?”

 She giggled again, “yes, I guess we are Mr. Negan.”

 “Just Negan, sweetheart, afterall, we are both adults.” I leaned over towards her, winking, causing her to blush.

 After Gregy boy gave us our little fucking speech, explaining the rules like we were fucking kindergarteners, we started our game.

 “Ladies first.” I nodded towards her.

 Smiling, she played. “It’s not much, but I have horrible tiles I’m afraid.”

 “Brach? What the…?” I caught her expression, stopping myself from finishing that sentence.

 “It’s a female dog, Mr., I mean, Negan. But if you would like to challenge me, go right ahead.” She grinned at me.

 “I’m sure you know what you’re doing doll, so it’s fine.” I looked at my tiles, instantly spotting a word. My lips turning up into a cocky smile as I played my word.

 We played for awhile. Our scores fucking amazingly similar.. She played all the smarty fucking pants words, words no one ever uses in any normal fucking conversations. I played my words, breasts, ass, cleavage, horny, each word making her squirm uncomfortably in her seat, her face turning pinker with each play.

 I played my last word, putting me on top, in more ways than one. I was fucking proud of this one.

 “Phallus. Nice one Mr. Negan.” She looked away, shaken.

 I laughed. “Well darling, no one plays games like me.”

 “I imagine. I’m running out of tiles so excuse my choice.” She placed her tiles down, adding to one of mine.

 “What the fuck? That ain’t a word sweetheart!”

 “Are you challenging me, Negan? I was sure you would know that one.”  She looked up at me, taking her glasses off and batting her pretty eyes at me, a supposedly innocent smile on her lips. I got a better look at her and fuck me if she wasn’t gorgeous.

 “I know that, I mean, not fucking personally if that’s what your fucking implying!” She was fucking with me and I was getting pissed.

 “Oh no, of course not.” She leaned over, her lips mere inches from my ear, her hand landing on my knee, moving upward. “I’m sure you have no first hand knowledge of one those.”

 Fuck! What the fuckity fucking hell did she just do?! I had to fucking compose myself, wasn’t going let Ms prissy pants see my reaction to her. Fucking breath man.

 “Okay, microphallus for the win doll. Nice”

 “Thank you, Negan.” She removed her hand quickly, her glasses back on. “You play a mean game. But I never lose.” She turned to face me, a sly smirk on her face.

 We both turned to face the room, realizing we were all alone.

 “What the fuckity fuck?! Were we playing that long?!”

 “I guess so Mr. Negan.”

 The way she said my name, something stirred in me. She’d been saying it all afternoon, no effect. But just now, the way she purred it, my dick came to life, twitching, itching to escape.

 She stood, picking up the tiles from the board and placing them in the box. “It looks like they left me to clean up.” She sighed.

 “Would you like some help sweetheart?” I needed to get to practice but I didn’t want to leave here, her.

“That’s okay, Mr. Negan, I’m sure you’ve got places to be.” She sounded almost disappointed. “It won’t take me too long anyway.” She began picking up the game board on the next table.

 I stood up, moving up towards the front. “I’ll pick up this side, you get that side. We’ll be done in no fucking time darling!”

 “Well, thank you Mr. Negan, you’re such a gentleman.” She smiled, placing the boxes on a cart. “Not at all what I was warned about.”

 “Warned? What did the old busybody bitties say about me now?” I laughed, causing her to smile.

 “Well,” She started walking towards me, stopping when she reached the other side of the table I was at. “They told me you were rude, crass and loved to make people, especially women…” she reached up, pulling her long hair from the bun it was in, her curls bouncing off her shoulders. Pulling her glasses from her face and placing them on the table, she turned, walking back from where she had come. “Embarrassed, uncomfortable. But you see Mr. Negan.” She turned her head, looking at me over her shoulder. “It takes ALOT to embarrass me. And you haven’t done it.”

 “Well sweetheart, you’ve only just met me, give it time.” I started walking towards her. Reaching her, her back to me, I ran a finger up the back of her sweater. “You’d be fucking amazed at what I can do, say. I’ve made a sailor fucking blush.”

 She turned to face me. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of y/e/c, her lips so fucking enticing, her tongue running over them, making them glisten. I was so fucking wrong, she wasn’t the uptight prissy librarian, fucking no. She was the librarian songs, movies, were written about. A teenage boy’s wet dream come to life. Fuck, she was hot, plain and simple. And I wanted her.

 “I’m no sailor, Mr. Negan. I’m just a simple librarian.” She unbuttoned her sweater, pulling it off and throwing it on the table. I could now see why she had the fucker buttoned up to her chin, she only had one of those silky things on underneath. I knew I was fucking staring but shit, she was all tits and nipples. And I was a kid in the proverbial candy store. “It’s awfully toasty in here, don’t you think?” She had picked up a magazine and began fanning herself. And fuck if it wasn’t making me squirm.

 “I believe it has gotten quite hot in here sweetheart.” I moved next to her, blowing on her neck. “Better sweetheart?”

 She giggled. “Your breath is hot, Mr. Negan,” She turned away, walking away between the stacks of books.

 “Where ya goin’ sweet thing?” I wondered aloud.

 “Come and find me Mr. Negan!” She answered in a giggle.

 I followed after her realizing that she had disappeared. “Where’d you go doll?” I began looking between the racks figuring she couldn’t have gotten far.

 “Check our the 600 aisle Mr. Negan. It’s the most interesting row.” She purred.

I glanced on the endcaps of the shelves, noticing the numbers. I quickly made my way to the 600’s. I tipped my head, peeking down the row and seeing her, leaning back against the shelf, reading a book.

 “What ya reading there darling?” I asked, moving slowly towards her.

 She glanced up at me, a sweet smile on her face. “Nothing much, Mr. Negan. You read much?”

 By her side now, I placed my arms on either side of her, my legs on either side of hers. “I’m not much of a reader if there’s no pictures sweet girl.”

 She looked up at me. “This book has plenty of pictures.” She turned the open book around so I could see what she was reading. “Very interesting, doncha think Mr. Negan?” She hummed as she moved her face towards mine.

 My fucking face must have shown my shock as she began laughing. “Did I embarrass you Mr. Negan?” She had placed the book in my hands, freeing her own to wrap around my neck, her big y/e/c eyes blinking seductively at me.

 I laughed, a bit fucking nervously. “Ha, no no! Hell no baby girl. You showing me this for a reason?” I winked, my tongue running slowly over my lips. “Wanna try one of these positions out?”

 “Maybe…” she whispered in my ear. “The Kama Sutra is a favorite of mine.” Her breath tickling the hairs on my neck. “And I’ve always wanted to have my brains screwed out in a library.”

 Fuck she was nothing if not forward. “You,” I brought one hand up to run along the side of her face, my thumb stroking her cheek lightly. “Are my kind of girl.”

 Of like mind, our lips slammed together, our tongues quickly tangling. Her fingers quickly finding their way into my hair, pulling lightly. I brought my hands down to her ass, squeezing each round cheek through the thin fabric of her skirt. She suddenly pulled away.

 Panting, her hands quickly making easy work of her skirt’s zipper. I watched, fucking mesmerized as she slid the skirt down her legs, stepping out of it. Pulling the little silky tank she had on over her head, she stepped back, letting me truly take her in. She was a fucking stunning beauty, all curvy legs, ass and breasts.

 “So, dressed like that makes me think you were fucking expecting to be enjoying yourself a bit tonight, huh?” I laughed. She had on the sexiest pair of fucking underwear I’d ever seen. All silk and lace. Some fancy floral design. Her breasts all pushed up, looking so fucking enticing, I wanted to just dive into them. Her panties were perfect, barely covering her bits but just enough silk to make you wonder. But the best part was she was wearing thigh high stockings with the garter belt, a instant make me fucking hard as steel deal. Shit, I was a fucking goner.

 She smiled. “Honestly, no, this is nothing special.” She ran her hands down her thighs. “A girl likes to feel pretty, sexy, no matter what she’s wearing or where she’s going.”

 “Well sweetheart, you most certain-fucking-ly are sexy and gorgeous. Couldn’t quite see how beautiful through all that frumpy shit you were wearing.”

 She giggled, her hands running up my chest. “Well, Mr. Negan, the school kinda frowns upon dressing like this.” She looked down at her body.

 We both laughed. “I’m not sure any fucking work would get done if you did doll. I can just see all those fucking horny teenagers walking around with shittin’ boners.”

 “How about you Mr. Negan?” She had risen up on her toes, her lips brushing against my ear. “Could you get any work done?”

 I sucked in a deep breath, inhaling her scent. Fucking shivers running down my spine. “I don’t believe I fucking would sweet thing, no.”

 I brought my hands down to grasp her ass, squeezing, kneading, our lips upon each other again, my tongue winning the war of dominance. She tasted so fucking good causing me to groan. My hands working their way around to her front, dipping into her panties. She let out a sigh, that quickly turned to moans as my fingers found her damp folds. I inserting two of them into her pussy, my thumb running circles around her hardening clit.

 “Oh… god…yes!”

 “You can call me god, baby, but I usually just go by Negan.”

 “Shut up and just make me cum!” She growled in my ear.

 “Oooh, a feisty one! Mmhmm!” I laughed. I hastened my movements, adding a third finger and hooking them at just the right angle, my thumb adding extra pressure.

 She came undone, her moans so loud I was sure someone fucking heard. As she leaned her trembling body into mine, I brought my juice covered fingers up to my mouth, tasting her.

 “Fucking heavenly baby. Jeeeesus!” I licked each finger clean, she watched me, her head leaning against my chest, a sly smile appearing. We both jumped when we heard some enter the library. “Shit doll!”

 She whispered. “It’s probably just Joe, the night custodian.” She quickly slipped her skirt and top back on, stepping out into the main aisle.

 “Doll!” I realized her skirt was pulled up in the back, her hot ass exposed. She turned to face be, bringing a finger up to her lips is a shushing gesture. Fuck.

 “Is that you Joseph?” She yelled.

 “It sure is Miss y/ln! Just here to clean. What are you still doing here this late?”

 She disappeared, obviously going to talk to Joe. With her skirt around her waist and her ass on display.  I took off after her, willing my fucking hard on down. I jogged my way down to where y/n was standing, talking to Joe.

 “Mr. Negan, you’re here too?!”

 She turned to look at me, an angry scowl coming across her face. I looked at her, my eyes darting down to her ass. She must have thought I was fucking flirting or something because she wasn’t catching on. Just kept giving me fucking side eye and chatting with fucking Joe, who couldn’t keep his fucking eyes off of her.

 I reached over, trying not to be obvious, reaching for her skirt. She must have noticed, because she turned around quickly, jumping away from me.

 “What’s going on?” She yelled. I heard Joe make a gasping sound and realized he was fucking staring at her ass. Fuckity fucking fucker.

 “Uh, Miss y/l/n, your skirt, uh.”

 “What?!” She turned around, looking down and realizing. “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed! I don’t know how that could possibly have happened!” She had pulled her skirt down by now. Her cheeks a gorgeous shade of pink.

 “Uh, I don’t think the library needs cleaning tonight, I’ll just see myself out.” He turned, waving over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “And Mr. Negan, Miss y/l/n?”

 We both answered with a questioning “yes?”

 “Please don’t make a mess. And remember the walls are thin, it’s amazing what I can hear all over the school.   Have fun!”

 “Oh my god, Negan! He knows!” She look shocked, embarrassed, but then started giggling. She grabbed my hand, pulling me back down the aisles of books.

 “Where are  you taking me sweetheart?”

 “Maybe finish what we started?” She questioned me over her shoulder, a wink and a smirk pulling at her lips.

 My dick twitching at her spoken promise. “Sounds fucking good to me baby.”  I followed her willingly towards the back. “Where we headed darling?” My question soon answered when I saw an old couch.

 “A bit more comfortable, don’t you think?” She was turned towards me her top already thrown off, her skirt sliding down her shapely legs. She sat down, leaning back against the cushions, crossing those go on for fucking days stocking encased legs, her tits pressed forward so far. I was aching to touch them. She patted the seat next to her. “Sit with me Mr. Negan?”

 “Fuck sweet thing, you don’t have to ask me twice!” I moved over to the couch, sitting down. She slid over next to me.

 “Now, where were we?” She began pulling my shirt up my chest.

 “Let me help doll.” I pulled it off quickly. “Better?” I asked her, winking.

 “Much.” She purred, startling me as she was suddenly in my lap, straddling my legs. She placed her hands on my shoulders, moving them slowly downward, her fingers tickling the chest hairs, her nails lightly scraping. “I love a man with body hair, Negan.” As she spoke, her panty covered core began rotating over my painfully hard cock.

 I must have been making a face because she noticed. “Am I making you uncomfortable Mr. Negan?”

 “Kinda y/n.” I smirked, trying to hold myself together.

 She slid backwards, off my dick, which made me let out a breath I had been holding in. She then slid down to the floor onto her knees. “Can I help you,” she ran her hands up my thighs towards my waist “with your pants?” She skirted around my massive protruding bulge, reaching up to undo my belt, button and zipper.

 I couldn’t stop the throaty moans from escaping me. As she began pulling my pants down, I shifted my ass up to make it easier. Her eyes stayed on me as she slowly pulled my pants, and boxers, down, my more than fucking ready dick springing free.

 She stopped her actions, moving her hands up and grabbing a hold of my dick. Still eyes on me, her tongue darting out and running a wet stripe right up the underside to the head. I couldn’t decide if it was from fucking pain or pleasure but my eyes closed shut and I began groaning, my hands grasping at the pillows next to me.

 “Fuck baby!” I couldn’t be quiet as her tongue circled the head, dipping into the slit.

 “Macrophallus for the win Negan.” She purred as she swallowed me. All of me.

 “Fuck…that mean…” I moaned out.

 She released me with a wet pop. “Abnormally large penis Negan.” She giggled as she stood up.

 “Well, what else would you fucking expect?!” I laughed, but quickly quieted down when she began to slowly slide her panties down her legs. And I was unabashedly fucking staring.  “That has got to be the most fucking gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen sweetheart! God fucking damn!” I slammed my palms down on the sofa.

 She giggled as she straddled my legs, lowering down onto me. She began rubbing her folds over my hard cock, making us both moan. The wetness from us both making her glide easily, but I wasn’t going to be able to take much more of the fucking foreplay.

 “Up doll. Now!”

 I startled her, but a fucking smirk appeared on her gorgeous face. “Yes SIR!” She stood up off of me, stepping beside me, her arms reaching out to lean against the back of the sofa. She began wiggling her ass at me, two fucking glorious y/s/c globes. I moved to stand behind her, my hands grabbing her ass, squeezing tightly, so fucking soft, velvety, so pliable.

 “You want this big fucking cock in your tight pussy baby girl? I’m not gonna hold back, you wiggling that ass at me, teasing me all afternoon. You are most certain-fucking-ly are going to pay for your insolence.”

 She looked over her shoulder at me, her beautiful y/e/c eyes blinking at me. The sweetest innocent fucking smile on her luscious red lips.

 “Keep your eyes on me doll.” I ordered her as I lined my cock up to her wet entrance, slamming into her in one thrust, causing her arms to give out and gasp out loudly. I swung my arm around her waist pulling her body back into mine. “I’ve got you sweetheart.” I cooed in her ear.

 “Oh Negan, yes, God YES!”

 “You are so fucking tight baby, never had a cock as big as mine huh?” I growled into her hair.

 “No…no, not ever!” She whined.  “Oh God…”

 I held her tightly as I rammed into her, pulled out as far as I fucking could, jamming back in. I could feel my cock tip hitting her inside, it was causing all kinds of new fucking feelings for me. I twisted my waist just enough to hit her at a different angle. I reached around, grabbing her bra, pulling it down letting her tits free. I tweaked both nipples, making them harden instantly.

 “Oh MY GOD!!!” I swung one hand down, my fingers tweaking her hardened nub, sending her over into fucking bliss. I was right behind, my jerks becoming erratic, I began shaking.

 “Fuck baby girl… I’m cumming…” I growled out, panting heavily. Just as I felt my stomach tighten, her tiny fingers reached around gripping my fucking sack, kneading it lightly and causing me to shoot my fucking seed so far into her that I swear it was gonna come out the other end. I could stop cumming, fuck I was full.

 As I finished, I turned us both around, falling onto the sofa with y/n in my lap, my dick still inside her. Her head falling back onto my shoulder, one hand reaching up to gently stroking her damp hair away from her face. We both groaned at the loss as my dick softened and dropped out.

 She turned to face me, her small fingers finding my scruff, tickling it. “You’re an amazing man, Mr. Negan. And you play a mean game of Words With Friends.” She snickered, her lips meeting mine in a sweet quick kiss.

 “Fuck doll, you’re the mean gamer. What’s that word you used again, macrophallus?”

 She laughed. “Yes, Mr. Big Dick.”

 “I like that, maybe I should change my fucking name to Mr. Big Dick on my door.” I laughed, nuzzling my nose into doll’s neck. We stayed like that for quite awhile, fucking cuddling. Something I never do. But fuck if this girl didn’t do something to me. She was humming some song while running her hands up and down my arms, fucking soothing me.

 “Negan?” She whispered in my ear. “I think we should clean up, get dressed. Don’t want Joseph to come looking for us again!” She giggled.

 “Guess we should!” I helped us both up, she ran off, coming back with damp towels. I had her sit down so I could clean her up, nothing fucking sexual. We got dressed, making sure nothing looked out of the ordinary.

 As we made our way to the door, I took a chance, taking her hand in my own. She squeezed it tightly, looking up at me with a sweet smile.

 “Can I drive you home sweet thing?”

 “I would love that Mr. Negan. Maybe stay a bit?” She looked up at me through her long eyelashes, a bit hesitant.

 “I would fucking love to stay baby.”

 I ended up forgetting all about the hot sandwich shop girl.

[mugsywrites]

25/25? clues or sneak peaks? I can’t imagine how hard it must be to end this, after all this time. A big part of me doesn’t want it to end.

Hmmm, so I have the next phase of the story outlined but I don’t really know how to end it in a satisfying manner. I’ll share the general outline here if people want to read and see what my thoughts are. Spoilers, obviously.

Basically because TF arrived a day late since Desus were busy fucking they weren’t there to stop Gregory from getting killed. With Gregory not there being a dick plus the supply truck surviving plus Paul telling them about the Kingdom because he sees them as his husband’s family, the first fight with the Saviors goes differently. TF aren’t desperate and willing to rush in first (there’s also the fact that in Ripples Rick perversely trusts Jesus less than in canon because he’s worried about Daryl’s heart being broken) They end up not rushing into things blindly and prematurely declaring victory. The lineup still happens (haven’t decided exactly when/what the order of events are )but Glenn survives. I’m thinking that he and Maggie stay behind with Doctor C to help the leaderless HT cope while the rest of the group goes to discuss things with the Kingdom.

Which leads into what I’m having trouble with when it comes to ending the story. Lineup happens with a different group that includes Jesus. I was originally thinking of a cliffhanger--after Abe is killed Daryl goes voluntarily with Negan to protect Paul. End part one. Part two is what I jokingly think of as my “Watership Down AU” where Daryl plays along with the Saviors while conspiring with Sherry and the wives to get rid of Negan. Meanwhile Jesus and TF are conspiring with King E. In the Ripples version of reality because the Outpost raid didn’t happen/happened differently the initial beginning of the war is flipped--unlike the show TF knows a lot more about the Saviors and what Negan is capable of before they make any battle plans. Basically I’d remove the idiot plot elements of the show (seriously, so much shit could have been avoided if people actually shared information/took a moment to do some intelligence gathering).

Here’s a fragment of something from that vague plot: 

“See the thing is Daryl,” Negan purred, “Sherry is. Super. Hot.” Daryl glanced over across the factory floor to where Sherry was cowering in front of Simon. Negan wasn’t finished, “So you expect me to believe the two of you were there, all by your lonesome…and nothing happened?”

Daryl stared into those sparkling black eyes, alight with humor. He could feel the flames from the furnace at his back. He’s going to kill me, Daryl thought. Unless I can come up with something good. For the first time in over a year the prospect of his own death paralyzed him with terror. All he could think about was that he just got Paul back, and that the other man’s heart would be broken if something happened to Daryl now. His mind whirled away, trying to come up with an excuse or explanation other than the truth— that he wasn’t in Negan’s chambers to fuck his “wife” but to conspire with her to kill her “husband”. When the answer hit him it was so stupidly obvious he almost laughed.

He would simply tell a different truth.

“I like guys,” Daryl said flatly.

It was almost worth it solely for the look of shock on Negan’s face. His thick black eyebrows climbed up to almost his hair and he leaned back, Lucille slung over his shoulder. He studied Daryl for a long time, “No shit? You? Donut puncher?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, rolling his eyes a little.

“You don’t look like a queer,” Negan said thoughtfully.

“What’s a queer look like? And how’d you become an expert?”

Negan burst out laughing,“You got me there, Daryl.” Suddenly his face changed, going completely serious as though he had just made a connection, “Wait a second,” Negan said, voice low and contemplative, “that long-haired pretty boy in the clearing…he kinda looked like a queer.”

Don’t react, do not let it show on your face do not, Daryl mentally shouted at himself. Negan smiled his big, shit-eating smile and Daryl wished that he had just kept his mouth shut and let Negan do whatever he was going to do.

“Oh ho,” Negan whispered, “Interesting.”

Daryl said nothing, he didn’t trust himself to speak.  

[allbestnet]

100 Best First Lines of Novels

Call me Ishmael. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville (1851)

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)

A screaming comes across the sky. Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon (1973)

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez (trans. Gregory Rabassa) (1967)

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (1955)

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (trans. Constance Garnett) (1877)

riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. Finnegans Wake by James Joyce (1939)

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. 1984 by George Orwell (1949)

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens (1859)

I am an invisible man. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison (1952)

The Miss Lonelyhearts of the New York Post-Dispatch (Are you in trouble?—Do-you-need-advice?—Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you) sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathanael West (1933)

You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (1885)

Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested. The Trial by Franz Kafka (trans. Breon Mitchell) (1925)

You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. If on a winter's night a traveler by Italo Calvino (trans. William Weaver) (1979)

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. Murphy by Samuel Beckett (1938)

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger (1951)

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce (1916)

This is the saddest story I have ever heard. The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford (1915)

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;—that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;—and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost:—Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,—I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me. Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne (1759–1767)

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (1850)

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. Ulysses by James Joyce (1922)

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the house-tops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. Paul Clifford by Edward George Bulwer-Lytton (1830)

One summer afternoon Mrs. Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary. The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon (1966)

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not. City of Glass by Paul Auster (1985)

Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (1929)

124 was spiteful. Beloved by Toni Morrison (1987)

Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (trans. Edith Grossman) (1605)

Mother died today. The Stranger by Albert Camus (trans. Stuart Gilbert) (1942)

Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu. Waiting by Ha Jin (1999)

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. Neuromancer by William Gibson (1984)

I am a sick man . . . I am a spiteful man. Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (trans. Michael R. Katz) (1864)

Where now? Who now? When now? The Unnamable by Samuel Beckett (trans. Patrick Bowles) (1953)

Once an angry man dragged his father along the ground through his own orchard. “Stop!” cried the groaning old man at last, “Stop! I did not drag my father beyond this tree.” The Making of Americans by Gertrude Stein (1925)

In a sense, I am Jacob Horner. The End of the Road by John Barth (1958)

It was like so, but wasn't. Galatea 2.2 by Richard Powers (1995)

—Money . . . in a voice that rustled. J R by William Gaddis (1975)

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (1925)

All this happened, more or less. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (1969)

They shoot the white girl first. Paradise by Toni Morrison (1998)

For a long time, I went to bed early. Swann's Way by Marcel Proust (trans. Lydia Davis) (1913)

The moment one learns English, complications set in. Chromos by Felipe Alfau (1990)

Dr. Weiss, at forty, knew that her life had been ruined by literature. The Debut by Anita Brookner (1981)

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain / By the false azure in the windowpane; Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov (1962)

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston (1937)

I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story. Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton (1911)

Ages ago, Alex, Allen and Alva arrived at Antibes, and Alva allowing all, allowing anyone, against Alex's admonition, against Allen's angry assertion: another African amusement . . . anyhow, as all argued, an awesome African army assembled and arduously advanced against an African anthill, assiduously annihilating ant after ant, and afterward, Alex astonishingly accuses Albert as also accepting Africa's antipodal ant annexation. Alphabetical Africa by Walter Abish (1974)

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis (1952)

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway (1952)

It was the day my grandmother exploded. The Crow Road by Iain M. Banks (1992)

I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides (2002)

Elmer Gantry was drunk. Elmer Gantry by Sinclair Lewis (1927)

We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. Tracks by Louise Erdrich (1988)

It was a pleasure to burn. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (1953)

A story has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead. The End of the Affair by Graham Greene (1951)

Having placed in my mouth sufficient bread for three minutes' chewing, I withdrew my powers of sensual perception and retired into the privacy of my mind, my eyes and face assuming a vacant and preoccupied expression. At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O'Brien (1939)

I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull; He got a good Estate by Merchandise, and leaving off his Trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my Mother, whose Relations were named Robinson, a very good Family in that Country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the usual Corruption of Words in England, we are now called, nay we call our selves, and write our Name Crusoe, and so my Companions always call'd me. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (1719)

In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. Wittgenstein's Mistress by David Markson (1988)

Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress. Middlemarch by George Eliot (1872)

It was love at first sight. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (1961)

What if this young woman, who writes such bad poems, in competition with her husband, whose poems are equally bad, should stretch her remarkably long and well-made legs out before you, so that her skirt slips up to the tops of her stockings? Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things by Gilbert Sorrentino (1971)

I have never begun a novel with more misgiving. The Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham (1944)

Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person. Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler (2001)

The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up. The Napoleon of Notting Hill by G. K. Chesterton (1904)

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925)

You better not never tell nobody but God. The Color Purple by Alice Walker (1982)

“To be born again,” sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, “first you have to die.” The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie (1988)

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (1963)

Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet, and so does Mindy Metalman, Lenore notices, all of a sudden. The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace (1987)

If I am out of my mind, it's all right with me, thought Moses Herzog. Herzog by Saul Bellow (1964)

Francis Marion Tarwater's uncle had been dead for only half a day when the boy got too drunk to finish digging his grave and a Negro named Buford Munson, who had come to get a jug filled, had to finish it and drag the body from the breakfast table where it was still sitting and bury it in a decent and Christian way, with the sign of its Saviour at the head of the grave and enough dirt on top to keep the dogs from digging it up. The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O'Connor (1960)

Granted: I am an inmate of a mental hospital; my keeper is watching me, he never lets me out of his sight; there's a peephole in the door, and my keeper's eye is the shade of brown that can never see through a blue-eyed type like me. The Tin Drum by GŸnter Grass (trans. Ralph Manheim) (1959)

When Dick Gibson was a little boy he was not Dick Gibson. The Dick Gibson Show by Stanley Elkin (1971)

Hiram Clegg, together with his wife Emma and four friends of the faith from Randolph Junction, were summoned by the Spirit and Mrs. Clara Collins, widow of the beloved Nazarene preacher Ely Collins, to West Condon on the weekend of the eighteenth and nineteenth of April, there to await the End of the World. The Origin of the Brunists by Robert Coover (1966)

She waited, Kate Croy, for her father to come in, but he kept her unconscionably, and there were moments at which she showed herself, in the glass over the mantel, a face positively pale with the irritation that had brought her to the point of going away without sight of him. The Wings of the Dove by Henry James (1902)

In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway (1929)

“Take my camel, dear,” said my Aunt Dot, as she climbed down from this animal on her return from High Mass. The Towers of Trebizon by Rose Macaulay (1956)

He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made you think of a charging bull. Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad (1900)

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. The Go-Between by L. P. Hartley (1953)

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly ben the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban (1980)

Justice?—You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law. A Frolic of His Own by William Gaddis (1994)

Vaughan died yesterday in his last car-crash. Crash by J. G. Ballard (1973)

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (1948)

“When your mama was the geek, my dreamlets,” Papa would say, “she made the nipping off of noggins such a crystal mystery that the hens themselves yearned toward her, waltzing around her, hypnotized with longing.” Geek Love by Katherine Dunn (1983)

In the last years of the Seventeenth Century there was to be found among the fops and fools of the London coffee-houses one rangy, gangling flitch called Ebenezer Cooke, more ambitious than talented, and yet more talented than prudent, who, like his friends-in-folly, all of whom were supposed to be educating at Oxford or Cambridge, had found the sound of Mother English more fun to game with than her sense to labor over, and so rather than applying himself to the pains of scholarship, had learned the knack of versifying, and ground out quires of couplets after the fashion of the day, afroth with Joves and Jupiters, aclang with jarring rhymes, and string-taut with similes stretched to the snapping-point. The Sot-Weed Factor by John Barth (1960)

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon. The Last Good Kiss by James Crumley (1978)

It was just noon that Sunday morning when the sheriff reached the jail with Lucas Beauchamp though the whole town (the whole county too for that matter) had known since the night before that Lucas had killed a white man. Intruder in the Dust by William Faulkner (1948)

I, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus This-that-and-the-other (for I shall not trouble you yet with all my titles) who was once, and not so long ago either, known to my friends and relatives and associates as “Claudius the Idiot,” or “That Claudius,” or “Claudius the Stammerer,” or “Clau-Clau-Claudius” or at best as “Poor Uncle Claudius,” am now about to write this strange history of my life; starting from my earliest childhood and continuing year by year until I reach the fateful point of change where, some eight years ago, at the age of fifty-one, I suddenly found myself caught in what I may call the “golden predicament” from which I have never since become disentangled. I, Claudius by Robert Graves (1934)

Of all the things that drive men to sea, the most common disaster, I've come to learn, is women. Middle Passage by Charles Johnson (1990)

I am an American, Chicago born—Chicago, that somber city—and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record in my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent. The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow (1953)

The towers of Zenith aspired above the morning mist; austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods. Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis (1922)

I will tell you in a few words who I am: lover of the hummingbird that darts to the flower beyond the rotted sill where my feet are propped; lover of bright needlepoint and the bright stitching fingers of humorless old ladies bent to their sweet and infamous designs; lover of parasols made from the same puffy stuff as a young girl's underdrawers; still lover of that small naval boat which somehow survived the distressing years of my life between her decks or in her pilothouse; and also lover of poor dear black Sonny, my mess boy, fellow victim and confidant, and of my wife and child. But most of all, lover of my harmless and sanguine self. Second Skin by John Hawkes (1964)

He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. Scaramouche by Raphael Sabatini (1921)

Psychics can see the color of time it's blue. Blown Away by Ronald Sukenick (1986)

In the town, there were two mutes and they were always together. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers (1940)

Once upon a time two or three weeks ago, a rather stubborn and determined middle-aged man decided to record for posterity, exactly as it happened, word by word and step by step, the story of another man for indeed what is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal, a somewhat paranoiac fellow unmarried, unattached, and quite irresponsible, who had decided to lock himself in a room a furnished room with a private bath, cooking facilities, a bed, a table, and at least one chair, in New York City, for a year 365 days to be precise, to write the story of another person—a shy young man about of 19 years old—who, after the war the Second World War, had come to America the land of opportunities from France under the sponsorship of his uncle—a journalist, fluent in five languages—who himself had come to America from Europe Poland it seems, though this was not clearly established sometime during the war after a series of rather gruesome adventures, and who, at the end of the war, wrote to the father his cousin by marriage of the young man whom he considered as a nephew, curious to know if he the father and his family had survived the German occupation, and indeed was deeply saddened to learn, in a letter from the young man—a long and touching letter written in English, not by the young man, however, who did not know a damn word of English, but by a good friend of his who had studied English in school—that his parents both his father and mother and his two sisters one older and the other younger than he had been deported they were Jewish to a German concentration camp Auschwitz probably and never returned, no doubt having been exterminated deliberately X * X * X * X, and that, therefore, the young man who was now an orphan, a displaced person, who, during the war, had managed to escape deportation by working very hard on a farm in Southern France, would be happy and grateful to be given the opportunity to come to America that great country he had heard so much about and yet knew so little about to start a new life, possibly go to school, learn a trade, and become a good, loyal citizen. Double or Nothing by Raymond Federman (1971)

Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood (1988)

He—for there could be no doubt of his sex, though the fashion of the time did something to disguise it—was in the act of slicing at the head of a Moor which swung from the rafters. Orlando by Virginia Woolf (1928)

High, high above the North Pole, on the first day of 1969, two professors of English Literature approached each other at a combined velocity of 1200 miles per hour. Changing Places by David Lodge (1975)

They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys (1966)

The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane (1895)

[sciencespies]

The History of Violent Attacks on the U.S. Capitol

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-history-of-violent-attacks-on-the-u-s-capitol/

The History of Violent Attacks on the U.S. Capitol

On Wednesday, far-right insurrectionists stormed and occupied the U.S. Capitol as Congress met to certify the results of the 2020 presidential election. The mob forced lawmakers to flee for safety, smashed windows, vandalized offices and posed for photos in the House chambers. One woman died after being shot by law enforcement, an officer with the U.S. Capitol Police died from injuries sustained during the fighting, and three other people died from medical emergencies during the riot, reports CNN.

Images from the scene show attackers waving the Confederate battle flag in the halls of the Senate. As Judith Giesberg, a Civil War historian at Villanova University tells Business Insider’s Aria Bendix that the flag was appropriated in the 20th century, and continues to this day, to perpetuate the system of white supremacy in America. Wednesday was a grim first: During the entire Civil War from 1861 to 1865, the flag never entered the U.S. Capitol. (In fact, Confederate troops never took Washington at all. When Confederate General Jubal A. Early launched an attack on Fort Stevens, Union reinforcements arrived in the nick of time to save D.C. from Confederate invasion.)

A man holds the Confederate battle flag in the halls of the U.S. Capitol building on Wednesday. To his right, a portrait of Charles Sumner, an abolitionist senator from Massachusetts; to his left, a portrait of John C. Calhoun, the seventh U.S. vice president and a staunch defender of slavery.

(Saul Loeb / AFP / Getty Images)

Although Wednesday’s attempted coup failed, historians also pointed out that the U.S. has witnessed one successful coup d’état before: in Wilmington, North Carolina. As Gregory Ablavsky, associate professor of law at Stanford University, notes in a statement, during the Wilmington Massacre or Coup of 1898, white supremacists overthrew the government of the then-majority-black city and killed as many as 60 black people.

And while the attack on the Capitol shocked many, it was also predictable: Plans to invade the Capitol building have been circulating on various social media platforms for weeks, as Sheera Frenkel and Dan Barry report for the New York Times.

Since President George Washington laid the cornerstone of the U.S. Capitol in 1793, assailants with a range of motives have launched attacks on the building with varying levels of success. Most notably, when terrorists attacked the World Trade Center and Pentagon on September 11, 2001, a fourth plane, United Airlines Flight 93, was likely intended for the Capitol Building, per the National Park Service. A group of passengers overtook the hijackers and crashed the aircraft into an open field in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, killing all 44 people onboard.

A number of “lone wolf” attackers have also thwarted Capitol security: in 1835, Richard Lawrence attempted to assassinate President Andrew Jackson as he exited the building’s east portico. In 1915, a former Harvard professor successfully exploded three sticks of dynamite in the Senate Reception room, and an armed assailant in 1998 shot and killed two Capitol police officers.

But Wednesday’s mob joined the ranks of just a handful of groups with political motivations that successfully carried through with their plans. Here, Smithsonian takes a closer look at three instances of coordinated political violence against the U.S. Capitol.

1814: British forces burn the Capitol

British Burn the Capitol, 1814, painted by Allyn Cox in 1974 on the corridor fo the Capitol building House wing, first floor

(Architect of the Capitol)

Flames leapt from unfinished wreckage of the U.S. Capitol on August 24, 1814. British forces set fire to this building, the White House and much of Washington in retaliation for Americans’ burning of the Canadian capital at York the year prior. Britain and its young former colony were embroiled in the War of 1812, a conflict that ignited over the Royal Navy’s practice of “impressing” American soldiers into British service by wrongly accusing them of being British subjects, among other causes, reports Joel Achenbach for the Washington Post.

At the time, the Capitol building housed the House, Senate, Supreme Court and Library of Congress, per the Architect of the Capitol. British forces burned the 3,000 or so books in the collection in the Library of Congress and piled furniture together in the Supreme Court Chamber to create a huge bonfire. The Capitol building was still under construction and did not yet have its famous dome, reports Gillian Brockwell for the Post.

Nature happened to save the day. A huge storm, possibly a tornado brought on by the previous day’s 100-degree heat, struck Washington and put out the fires, sending British forces packing earlier than planned. Some interior structures and much of the Capitol’s exterior survived the blaze, and after some debate, officials decided to rebuild the federal government’s building where it stood. As Cassandra Good reported for Smithsonian magazine in 2016, just one casualty was reported from the fires: John Lewis, the grandnephew of George Washington himself.

1954: Puerto Rican nationalists open fire

“Guard Congress After Gunfire,” Boston Daily Globe, March 2, 1954, p. 1

(Library of Congress)

On the morning of March 1, 1954, Lolita Lebrón, Rafael Cancel Miranda, Andres Figueroa Cordero and Irving Flores Rodriguez boarded a train from New York City to Washington, D.C. With little to no security measures in place at the Capitol, the group walked into the building with concealed handguns and entered the gallery overlooking the House floor, where Congress was in session.

Around 2:30 p.m., Lebrón shouted her support for Puerto Rican independence, and the group shot indiscriminately at lawmakers from the gallery. They managed to wound five Congressmen before being overtaken by visitors and police officers, per a House of Representatives oral history of the event.

The group designed their violent attack to draw attention to the cause of Puerto Rican independence. Their grievance dated back to the Spanish-American War, when in 1898, the United States invaded Puerto Rico and established it as an “organized territory.” At the time, this meant that Puerto Ricans were subject to American imperial rule but were not considered full citizens. Even after Puerto Ricans achieved citizenship in 1917, the territory still has no voting representation in Congress and little political autonomy. More than a century of U.S. imperialism and its adverse effect have led some Puerto Ricans, such as these nationalists, to argue that their territory should be completely independent of American rule.

“Bullets whistled through the chamber in the wildest scene in the entire history of Congress,” Speaker Joseph W. Martin, who was presiding that day, would later recall. According to the Office of the Historian of the House of Representatives, the police had sealed off the Capitol within minutes of the shooting and conducted a thorough search of the grounds until they captured Rodriguez, who had narrowly managed to slip away in the mayhem. The four attackers were tried and sentenced to federal prison with sentences ranging from 16 to 75 years. They remained imprisoned until President Jimmy Carter, responding to international pressure, granted the shooters clemency in 1979.

1983: Far-left extremists bomb the Senate Chamber

The resulting damage from the November 7, 1983, bombing outside of the Chamber of the United States Senate

(Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

Leftist groups had attacked the Capitol directly before: In March 1971, for instance, members of the extremist group Weather Underground set off a bomb in a bathroom on the Senate side of the Capitol, harming no one, reports Brockwell for the Post.

But the most serious terrorist attack took place a decade later, when a group of women split from the group to form the May 19th (M19) Communist Organization. Just before 11 p.m. on November 7, 1983, a member called the Capitol switchboard to announce that a bomb was about to explode.

Minutes later, M19 detonated a bomb in the Capitol’s north wing, blowing a hole through a wall and knocking the Senate majority leader’s office door off its hinges. Luckily, the area was already deserted and nobody was harmed, but the attack resulted in $250,000 worth of damage and shredded a portrait of Daniel Webster, per the U.S. Senate.

Members of M19—named for civil rights icon Malcolm X and Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh—coordinated the attack to protest U.S. military involvement in Grenada and Lebanon. Broadly, the group argued that violence was a necessary ingredient in the fight for “revolutionary anti-imperialism,” and its members would go on to bomb other high-profile buildings such as an FBI office. Some of the women involved were later arrested and charged with lengthy sentences, Brockwell writes for the Post.

National historian security expert and historian William Rosenau, who wrote a book on the bombings, told Smithsonian’s Lila Thulin last year that the group is the only documented terrorist group run entirely by women. They were “a group of essentially middle-class, well educated, white people who made a journey essentially from anti-war and civil rights protest to terrorism,” he says.

Rosenau added that in his view, people should tread cautiously when comparing militant leftist organizations of the 1970s to extremism of all political stripes today.

“Historical context is absolutely paramount,” he says. “We kind of lump terrorism together, like groups as disparate as Students for a Democratic Society, Al Qaeda, Red Army Faction, Aum Shinrikyo, but these are all products of particular times and particular places.

Rosenau continues, “The important thing is just to realize that there are some similarities, but these are very different periods in time and each period of time is unique.”

#History