#even though i had no input on the sermon at all

[viridianstarlight]

Do you know who you are?

To the world these days, or at least my generation and younger, personal identity matters a whole lot to people.And to these same people, your identity can be whatever you want it to be.

You are identified by your gender, and they say your gender can be whatever you want on any day.

You are identified by your sexuality and relationship status.

You are identified by the colour of your skin.

You are identified by your job.

There’s more, but I think you get the idea.

So in the eyes of these people, I am male, straight and single, white, and a cafe worker. But I don’t really think that describes ‘Cory’.

But we Christians have a different view of identity. Here’s what the Bible says about who we are.

Psalm 139: 15-16 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

To start with, God knows exactly who you are. He knows everything there is to know about you. So if anyone can show you who you are, it is God.

1 John 3: 1 See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know Him.

We are called God’s children. We are adopted in to the King’s family.

Romans 8:16-18 Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

By being adopted in to the King’s family, we are made co-heirs with Christ, sharing in His sufferings and glory.

Isaiah 43:1 But now, this is what the Lord says— He who created you, Jacob, He who formed you, Israel: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

We belong to God.

Romans 6:6 This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe.

Thanks to Christ’s death and resurrection, our faith in Him clothes us in His righteousness and redeems us of our sins. God looks upon us and sees the perfection of Christ.

Ephesians 2:10 For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

God is perfect, and so is everything He creates. God does not make mistakes. You are His masterpiece, the crowning reflection of His perfect creativity.

1 Corinthians 6:19 Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God?

Your body is a holy space where God dwells.

Ephesians 1: 4 Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes. 

God created the world in the first chapter of Genesis, and even before then, He knew you perfectly and has loved you perfectly since then.

1 Corinthians 12: 27 Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.

You belong as part of something greater than yourself, and you cannot function to your greatest potential separate to the body.

You were created to do things that other parts of the body cannot do, and you were created to benefit the body just as other parts were created to benefit you.

1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.

You are a royal priest of the King. In the old testament, only the high priests could enter the holy of holies within God’s temple. But we, belonging totally to God and being chosen by Him, can enter the presence of God at any time.

And this is all thanks to Christ leaving heaven to become a man, taking our sin to the cross and dying in our place, taking our judgement, and in return sharing His righteousness with us.

Do you know who you are? God does.

[pinkiepiebones]

I’ve been thinking a lot about a little ficlet you wrote, the one where special waits for copia backstage during a ritual. It mentions how spesh glows when he’s excited. I was wondering if you have any ideas/headcanons for the first time spesh did this, in general and around Copia? I can imagine he must’ve been quite confused at seeing his ghoulfriend light up like a christmas tree lol :•)

First off thank you for dumping a bucket of dopamine on my brain!!!!! I can't believe anyone thinks about my silly fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for the first time Copia saw him glow...

Copia grew up within the church. He had been raised there. Some said he was even born there, though this was not factual- he had been born elsewhere, and left at the narthex steps as an infant. But, yes. Copia essentially spent the entirety of his life in the church. At least until he turned 25. At age 25, he was granted permission to visit nearby towns to spread the word of the Dark Lord. He took advantage of these monthly trips, proselytising as ordered but also wandering around, purchasing music records. By 28 he had managed amassed an impressive collection of music- not just records, but cassette tapes and new compact discs as well, and a lovely record player he had taken ages to restore. He had little space to call his own but managed to keep it all safe in his dormitory room. After long days of doing mindless research or writing manifestos or sermons for Papa Nihil, Copia relished in putting a good record on and flopping onto his little bed, letting the music wash over his aching back and shoulders.

He was creeping close to 30 when he met the nameless ghoul called Special. Well, to be clear, he had seen the ghoul dozens of times. It was one of the many nameless ghouls that haunted the hallways or ceilings or catacombs of the church, but this one managed to stand out amongst the nearly identical, mouthless, humanoid gargoyles. For one, it's tail never stayed still. It wagged. It twitched. It would even occasionally curl into a question mark. No other ghoul acted so... lively.

The other way the Special ghoul stood out was in it's voice. All ghouls communicated telepathically, but their telepathy had the unfortunate tendency of activating the same parts of human brains that stir up intense fear and nausea, so ghouls rarely spoke to humans (in fact, it was widely believed that those who rose through the ranks within the church's bureaucracy were just people who could listen to ghouls without screaming or crying). But Special's voice was wrong. It spoke telepathically, sure, but for whatever reason, it's voice registered in the human brain as audible input. Having Special talk to you was like listening to a human. A babbling, obnoxious human. His voice would drift into Copia's mind sometimes, and it would be as though someone were walking by his office and talking.

So when the nameless ghoul called Special knocked on his door one night and asked to listen to the music- "I've actually been sitting outside your room for weeks now, just listening, trying to build up the courage to ask you if I could come in, because I know humans don't so much care for us ghouls being close, I've heard we smell, which is probably true, I mean, we are made of Hell itself after all, it's no bed of roses there," and on and on- Copia was only a little bit surprised.

Copia knew about ghouls only as much as Sister Imperator had deemed it necessary for him to know. He had been a child when she took him down to the lowest basement to show him the portal from which all ghouls emerged. He had held her hand tightly, afraid something would come up from the glassy darkness if he let go of her. She squeezed his little hand reassuringly and told him "the Dark Father does not send ghouls to us without a purpose for each of them, C. Every ghoul you see in this church was brought to us with a reason for it's existence woven into it's very being. Each ghoul stays connected to our plane of existence by tethering to an element- Fire, Water, Air, Earth, or Aether. Each serves a purpose."

And now he and a ghoul had become friends. It was not something that happened in the church. Imperator had expressed her concern and Copia, in a rare moment of standing up for himself, had replied "all ghouls are sent up for a reason. What if Him Below sent this one because I need a friend?" Imperator had started to retort but Copia fled back to his room, where Special had been listening to Pink Flloyd.

"Special," Copia gasped. He flopped onto his bed and the ghoul scrambled over to the bedside, tail twitching in concern.

"Whoa, what's happened?"

"I talked back to Sister Imperator."

Special tilted his head, bird-like. "And?"

Copia looked at the ghoul with a mix of emotions.

Special continued, "aren't you, like, a hundred years old? Isn't that an adult? You can talk back to your mom at this age, I am sure."

Copia smiled a tiny bit. "I'm not a hundred, Spesh."

The ghoul's tail wagged. Copia sat up on his bed and sighed, then looked at the tail threatening to wear a patch in his rug. He looked at Special's featureless face. "What's that about," he asked, gesturing to the tail.

"You called me 'Spesh.' I get called Special almost all of the time when I am called something, but just now, you called me a new name."

Copia shrugged. "It's just short for 'Special,' not that big of a deal."

Then Copia noticed fine cracks appearing in the ghoul's dull grey scale-like skin. He backed up on his bed until his back hit the wall. "Fuck, what happened? Did I break you?"

Special looked at his arms, then his torso, then his legs, and laughed. "Oh, no! No, this is-" He gestured with a talon as though trying to pull the tight words from the air.

"I'm happy."

Special seemed to emit a honeyed glow from the cracks, as though his body was composed of burning embers. Copia stared, wide-eyed, and slid off his bed to sit beside the ghoul. He touched the ghoul's arm, amazed at the gentle heat radiating off it.

"This is the purest expression of Fire Ghoul happiness," Special said softly, shyly. "It equates, I think, most to human joy. Or love."

Copia and Special sat quietly together until the embers died down and vanished. And then Copia did something never before seen in the church.

He leaned in and hugged the ghoul.

Special startled but hugged the human back.

"Thank you for being here," Copia whispered. "Thank you for finding me, Spesh."

Special had no mouth but somehow smiled.

"No problem, uhhh, 'Cope.'"

[i-fondued]

More ideas for the the theoretical medieval au (THIS IS NOT A REQUEST, DO NOT FEEL PRESSURED TO WRITE THIS I AM JUST IDEA-DUMPING)

The abbey is basically like The Knights Templar For Satan™️

The Papas are still Papas, and they don’t ever deal with the direct battle side of things; they stick to the spiritual side, and provide a morale boost to the knights and soldiers, while also providing strategic input.

Copia would be like the Grand Cross (or Grucifix, being that they’re Knights of Satan), though he never actually goes out into battle because he’s too valuable, so the title is mostly symbolic (my explanation for why Veritas hates Copia in this AU!) (side note: I hope I got the title right; I’m trying to be period-accurate by using real chivalry rankings, but that might be wrong. Just incase I am indeed wrong, that’s like the highest-ranking knight, aka the one who tells everyone else what to do); he acts more as a consul to Terzo, and maybe a little bit of a Secretary, taking care of important correspondences, helping in rituals and sermons, advising Terzo in battle strategy, and passing on Terzo’s orders to the lower-ranking knights who then pass it on to their own soldiers.

Sister would basically still serve the same role as a prime mover, but she’d be treated even more reverently than we see in SIS; baby-making is like one of the most important things to Medieval people, both to secure the Papal seat and the Grand Cross. Basically, sister is twice as important because babies/heirs are twice as important.

Veritas serves as the Grand Commander; he essentially passes Copia’s orders on to the Commanders who then pass it on to the 1st and 2nd class knights.

Sister Imperator is probably the actual strategist, let’s be real here. She just uses Terzo as a front because women had no rights in Medieval times, and acts like a proper lady and unholy nun who helps with rituals and nothing more in public. Behind closed doors, however, Terzo knows who really wears the brais (medieval equivalent of pants). Terzo goes along with it because it means less work for he and Copia lmao 😭.

Swiss is still Sister’s personal ghoul, and still acts as her body guard; the only difference is that he dresses in ornate armor.

In fact, most ghouls serve the same purpose as usual; they’re bodyguards for the abbey, and act as assistants when needed. The only difference is that they sometimes serve as Commanders. That’s the highest rank a ghoul is allowed to hold, but they typically serve as 1st and 2nd class knights. The method of summoning is very important when a ghoul’s position and ranking is decided; if they’re feral ghouls who were bred and not summoned, they’ll typically become a 2nd class knight (unless they demonstrate great battle prowess). If they’re summoned by a lower ranking clergy member( (like Veritas), they’ll usually become a 1st class knight. If they’re summoned by a Papa or Prime Mover (or sired by the personal ghoul of the Papas or Prime Movers), and aren’t that papa/prime mover’s personal ghoul (I personally believe that, at least in this au, papas and prime movers can summon multiple ghouls, but only the first ghoul they summon will be a personal/bonded ghoul; only in rare cases will a papa/pm have multiple bonded ghouls), they’ll become a Commander.

Ghouls aren’t allowed to become Grand Commanders or a Grand Cross because those roles are seen as a high honor and are reserved for upper clergy members. There has only been one ghoul in the entire history of the church. Not much is known about him, but it is said he was the third bonded ghoul of the Prime Mover who was married to the Papa and Grand Cross that started the Emeritus line…

I should mention that all the clergy members still have church rankings, ie Copia is still a cardinal. The military rankings only go into effect when there is, well, a need for the military. Usually the king’s army and the Catholic Church can take care of the battles, but occasionally (like 50% of the time) the king’s army needs help or the Catholic Church gets a little too big for their britches and decides to start a skirmish.

The boys and Sister end up in the main Vatican abbey when a skirmish with the Catholic Church starts and they have to relocate there because Terzo and Copia are actually needed (Imperator’s advising alone isn’t cutting it this time because it looks like a real war may break out soon with [insert medieval adversary of Italy here] (idk much abt medieval Italian wars, sorry guys).

I’ll be sending a second ask with a few links to some great medieval outfits for Sister, Terzo, Copia, Swiss, and the babies soon!

I literally have no words because I love this so so much Jar 😕😢💕

now I'm warring with myself if I should do this au or victorian now

If anything you 100000% have my permission to run with my ocs and write this becaus someone should. It's that good 💕

[larrydaleydaily]

Not with You pt.2

Pairing: Michael Morbius x Reader

Summary: Michael makes good on his promise to take you home after a long day at work, but only after completely changing the way that you look at your own studies.

Wordcount: 4.2k-ish? idk I got carried away (Tolkien-style writers, UNITE!)

A/N: Holy crow, thank you for all of the love on pt.1!! I kept screaming every time I got a new notification, I'm so glad you all like it. Once again, shoutout to my beta reader- @cynicalsquib I swear to Anakin that I know what floor-to-ceiling is, and that it is not the same as floor-length. BTW, every name I mention in this fic is a real comic character, go look 'em up!!

Jurgen Muntz was the brilliant mind behind the engineering marvel “Apogee 1”, the central low-orbit extraterrestrial information node for Horizon Labs that magnifies the shared bandwidth of every researcher in the building. Otherwise known as the company’s satellite hub, the station was a point of pride in Horizon, so you all had to be sure to refer to it with its full title anytime you needed to mention it. Muntz was not a world-renowned mechanical engineer, and likely felt like he was constantly in competition with the Nobel, MacArthur, and Booker prize-winning employees that littered the lab floors. Which is how you felt, at least sometimes. In order to keep up with the rest of the geniuses in your respective proximities, both of you had to compensate for your lack of trophies and awards somehow, and you settled on two similar approaches; You allowed yourself to be pulled in every direction at once by your coworkers, while Muntz was forever tagging along with the techs and adding his actually quite valuable input to their projects, even (and especially) when he was not asked to. So, when Michael had thrown around the idea of a vehicle that he could drive with just his hands instead of pushing pedals with his feet, which often wouldn’t respond the way he wanted them to, Jurgen lept immediately into action. Filling more than five dry-erase boards, two of which were not his to use, with theoretical schematics, carbon printing special parts and fitting them into a shell car for testing, and spending over two years developing the correct balancing for the system of pulleys that would accelerate or slow the car, Muntz was insatiable. Bordering on crazy, a condition apparently necessary for working at Horizon, he worked incessantly to build this masterpiece of accessible machinery. All of this was according to the good doctor himself, though, so this may be a little dramaticized for your benefit. 

“He truly didn’t work on anything else the whole time. He’s a very dedicated man, incredibly skilled, too.” Michael was bordering on preaching by the time he finished explaining how he came to possess a car that he could drive himself with. He had begun this minor sermon while the two of you walked to his office to collect his laptop so that you could go home. After shoving his things into a small leather cross-body satchel, he went to throw it over his shoulder before being met with resistance, which was actually you grabbing the strap of the bag to prevent his movement. You stared at each other for a second, he at you out of confusion, and you at him as a sort of challenge. After letting a strange silence consume the pair of you, you tugged the bag from his hands, broke eye contact with him, and slipped it around your neck, settling it against your hip. Readjusting your own bag to compensate for the new weight, you rolled your shoulders to test the new bag’s effect on your balance and looked back over at Michael. He looked downright perplexed at your action, which you guess was fair. You had never really been overly familiar and presumptuous with Michael like this, staying in the very neutral zone of ‘more-than-coworkers’ and ‘not-quite-friends-enough-to-hang-out-away-from-work’, where the guidelines of interaction with him were clearly defined and you were comfortable. But, you figured, if he offered to drive you home, something that he never did for anyone, you could be a little forward. 

His eyebrows were knit together, pairing with a slightly befuddled frown to give him the visage of a man who was carefully evaluating the correct response to what had just happened. You gave him a small encouraging, if a tad embarrassed, smile, rocking a little on your heels as you awaited his response. Something seemed to pull him from his thoughts as he slowly blinked a few times, each one easing the confused expression from his face. He seemed to accept your action, gifting you a small, pleased grin in return, and twisted to collect his crutches from where he rested them when he had sat to gather his things. Straining a bit, he eased himself back onto his feet and swung himself to face the door of his lab. He fixed you with a strange look that made you feel like one of the specimens you studied diagrams of, vulnerable and entirely dependent on his next words.

“Lab One!” The lights went out.

“Wait, now we can’t see,” you deadpanned.

“Yes, that’s the state of being we tend to call ‘darkness’,” he quipped at you, mirth lacing his voice to create the addicting sound you adored hearing.

“Well, can you turn them back on? I don’t know your lab as well as you do.” There was silence for a moment, not long enough to put you on edge, but just enough for you to feel the pause in the conversation and wonder if you had said something wrong. Oh god, had you?

“Lab One!” Lights on. Good. He was looking at you with a suppressed smirk, eyes trained on your face. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that you had been starting to question yourself in the face of his silence. “Sorry, I forgot that you don’t spend much time in here with me. You’re always bothering my patients so much that I keep thinking that you’re constantly around.”

Now that had you questioning everything you had ever done in his presence. Did you really not spend enough time with him? What could you do to remedy that? Should you abandon every other researcher in the building? You very easily could, and just hang around Floor Six with Michael and Martine, spend every day playing chess with Anna, help nurse Kristen with her rounds, Michael with his experiments….

“Hello? Earth to Doctor Bambi?” Michael was waving one of his large hands in your face, which your eyes focused on, though you don’t recall your vision blurring and unfocusing in the first place. “Welcome back. Where did you go just then?” he asked.

“I’m- I was just thinking about the projects I’m working on with everyone, what I’ve been doing for the last couple of months. I guess I didn’t realize how busy I’ve be- WAIT A GODDAMN MINUTE! What did you just call me?” Your voice trailed off into a mortified whisper, praying that the next sentence out of his mouth wouldn’t damn you to humiliation. His eyes screwed shut as he let out a deep, rich, good-natured chuckle at your rapid flip through emotions. 

“I overheard Martine and Dr. Parker referring to you as Bambi while they were talking about his experiment with the Cryo Cube. I tried to ask her what the nickname meant, but she just kind of… very guiltily clammed up about it. It just fits you, I suppose,” he breathed out after a moment. You let out a relieved sigh despite yourself and grimaced at the thought of Martine spilling your secret. She would never, but the fear of Michael knowing still gripped the edges of your heart. The sudden change of your demeanor did not go unnoticed by the eerily observant doctor, but he said nothing. You eventually nodded, looking towards the door of the lab, suddenly wishing you could run from this situation to get a grip over your feelings again. Michael seemed to catch on to your need to go, wordlessly moving forward until he stood just inside the entrance of the lab, where he stopped and turned to you.

“Are you coming?”

Your body moved towards him before you could even comprehend his question, sliding past him out into the dimly lit hallway. You had the distinct feeling that he was watching your every move, but you refused to verify your hunch. 

“Lab One!” Lights off.

—--

A far more comfortable silence settled over you two in the elevator ride down to Lab Floor Two, where your office sat, tucked away into a little corner of the building. Both of you stepped out of the elevator, and you began to move towards your room, expecting that he would just stay where he was to limit unnecessary movement on his part. Very few rooms separated the elevator and your office, so the trip was swift, an exceedingly helpful feature when you needed to quickly hide in your modest safe space. Taking your little key ring out of your pocket, you fumbled for a second to find the right key from the ones that open various other doors in the building. Locating the proper one, you opened your door and stepped inside. A simple room, with no technology other than your computers and a tiny projector, physical charts littering the floor, posters of an assortment of creatures papering the walls, dully lit by the ambient lights of the city filtering through your massive windows. A feeling of dissatisfaction bubbled low in your chest, reminders of your long-forgotten project fogging your mind with memories of your passion for the cause when you had first started at Horizon. 

“Is that a sketch of a Chinese dragon?” Michael’s voice suddenly called out from directly behind you, causing you to jump halfway to the ceiling with a start.

 How can a man on crutches sneak up on someone like that? 

You turned to look behind you. He was standing just there, taking in every piece of information that your office lent in its current state of chaos. The fact that your actual desk seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dust did not escape him. 

You felt like he was reading you again, exposed for his analysis. Your eyes trailed over his eyes, his lips, his hands… You coughed, turning back to your disappointing excuse for a research space to find the poster he was talking about. It was a quick, stupid sketch you had done in your first semester as a zoology undergraduate, part of a little inside joke between you and a classmate.

“Yeah. A friend of mine and I argued that dragons could have existed, and probably did, given how widespread they were in ancient cultures, despite the fact that they had little contact with each other. When you consider that Native South Americans and ancient Mesopotamians had freakishly similar pictograms of a creature that had a large serpent body and flew, it just doesn’t entirely add up that there was no common creature that they could have been based on. We even developed our final project on the plausibility of fire breathing in reptiles, how it could happen biologically, and what dragons of any size would do to our environment,” You had to physically hold your tongue to stop this embarrassing little deluge. You moved through the small room, gingerly stepping over your forsaken research to reach your coat where it hung on its hook. “It’s childish, but we drew that together for the final, and I haven’t wanted to get rid of it yet. It makes me feel more connected with the rest of the world while I’m pretty much isolated to this building…” You expected some sort of teasing remark from Michael, and when none came you tipped your head over to look at him. 

He was still standing just outside your door, expression soft as he looked around at your decorations. The light from the hallway outlined him in a gentle glow, his hair was falling from its loose bun, and his shoulders were relaxed as he glanced about.

He looked so beautiful. 

He hummed a little in thought, finishing his appraisal of your office by looking back at you, questions already forming behind his eyes as he looked at you very fondly.

“That’s not childish. I mean, it's not a good drawing, but it's endearing that you still have it. It doesn’t look like you come in here very often to appreciate it, though,” he murmured, statement ending in a questioning tone, not pushing you to answer but leaving it open if you wanted to. You bobbed your head in agreement with his assessment, looking anywhere except at him.

“I have no reason to. My work is… not as important as what the rest of you are doing. I’d rather assist than do this nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Nonsense,” he grinned at his own wordplay, “you wouldn’t be here if Max didn’t believe in your work. Which makes four people, at least, that trust your research.” His eyes were downright sparkling, the usual piercing blue warming with gentle affection. 

“Four?” “Max, Martine, Anna, and myself, of course.”

You couldn’t stop the blush that erupted from your cheeks and spread down your neck and chest. His praise put you on cloud nine, but you knew, deep down, that you didn’t really deserve it.

“That’s sweet, but you don’t even know what I’m working on,” You protested, “I haven’t told anyone except the Board of Funding, which you were banned from, if I remember correctly.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Well, then tell me what your project is,” he prompted, ignoring your bait to distract him away from his inquiry. You felt at a loss, looking around your office desperately for something to make a joke of to stop this line of conversation. Unfortunately, there was nothing that wouldn’t lead to more questions, and you could tell from the look on Michael’s face that he wouldn’t be deterred.

“It makes me a little uncomfortable sharing my proposition with anyone, especially when everyone else in this ant colony is a genius that is working to save lives, so please bear with me. A little while ago, a geologist colleague of mine came to me with some odd seismic activity radiating from the Arctic circle. When I say radiating, I’m using that word intentionally, because the waves of quakes were increasing in strength, coming from one specific location in the glaciers. She asked me if I had come across anything like that in my field research on tundra habitats, and I hadn’t. The only explanation we came up with was that an underground magma pit was getting closer to erupting into a volcano, which is ridiculous because we already know of all of the volcanic activity in the Arctic. We decided to take a trip out to the spot of origin to investigate, and when we got to the right location we thought we had gotten it wrong, that there was a mistake with our navigation, because we had stumbled onto a large, populated den. Polar bears, right? Nope. Both of us swear that this creature was an amalgamate of several animals, at least a strange combination of feline and canine, with some weird tentacles that looked like roots or vines rather than actual tentacles. It was blue, green, purple, red, every brilliant color of the fucking rainbow, and, thankfully for us, asleep. We didn’t even dare to get a picture of it for fear it would wake up, so we just left. We ran. Quietly. And quickly, because there is no way that it existed there alone and we really didn’t want to know what it was at the moment. Now, though, I need to know. We’re not crazy, we didn’t imagine it, but a creature like that has never existed on this planet. My research is trying to figure out what the hell it was… Is? I don’t even know if it’s still alive. But I have to know. The only problem is that I can’t focus on what I’m doing when the answer wouldn’t help sick people, wouldn’t stop climate change, or dictatorships, or help refugees. So, I help you guys, the ones who are making a difference.” You hadn’t realized that you had begun to hyperventilate during that rant, but you were suddenly very aware of your racing heartbeat and burning lungs as you met Michael’s gaze. He looked very concerned.

“Breathe,” his voice was filled with professional surety, “I’m not here to withdraw your funding, so please relax. Please, breathe.”

At his gentle behest, you closed your eyes and filled your lungs with one deep, slow breath, exhaling even slower in an attempt to calm your body. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed as you regained yourself.

“Don’t be. It’s intriguing. You seem very passionate about it, and I hope you can get back to your research soon,” he paused for a moment, “Your work doesn't mean any less because it’s not directly saving lives. Who knows? Maybe that creature has antibodies that can cure cancer, or a sentience that can rival ours. No one will know until you keep at it.”

You could feel your throat tightening as Michael allayed your anxieties about your place in Horizon. It wasn’t enough to immediately push you back into your work, but maybe… It couldn’t hurt to come to your office for a few hours tomorrow morning. 

You sputtered out a quick thank you before your emotions could overcome you in front of him, slinging your coat over his bag at your side. Shuffling some papers, shutting the blinds, and powering off your computers, you prepared yourself to go home for the night. You approached the door, and Michael stepped to the side to let you out, once again studying your movements. You locked your door, and motioned towards the elevator with a hand. 

Finding yourself back inside the little metal box, you realized, again, how little you knew what was happening.

“Where is your car? What kind is it? Is it in a garage near here?”

He laughed.

“Handicap parking, Bambi. Right out front.”

Oh. Duh.

You pushed the button for floor one, the legal and financial floor, conveniently also where the entrance to the building was. 

—-

Pushing your way through the turnstiles that lined the reception area, you took notice of how many people were still chatting away, even though it was getting kind of late to still be actively working. Michael had stopped for a second to talk to one of the other medical doctors, claiming that he needed their help with a possible experiment. While you waited, you let your eyes drift around the large room. It was really quite a beautiful space, vaulted ceilings, gold gilding, floor-to-ceiling windows. You were about to wonder if it violated your NDA to take a picture of the reception when someone tugged at your sleeve.

“Peter! What are you still doing here? Didn’t you work all night last night?” You questioned your friend who, indeed, looked like he really needed to sleep.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Peter shook his head.

“I’m fine. Just really need to keep working so that I can finish my assignment. Plus, she won’t let me into the apartment until I admit that her leftovers are not mine to take,” he scowled. This “she” was Peter’s long-time friend, newly-declared girlfriend that he was absolutely head-over-heels in love with. 

“Well, forget the project, the cube isn’t going anywhere, first. Second, just apologize? And don’t eat her food without asking?”

“She made stir fry, how was I supposed to not eat it? And I HAVE apologized, but she keeps hanging up on me.” “Are you seriously telling me that you’re apologizing over the phone, Peter Parker?”

He looked sheepish at that.

“...maybe.”

“DUDE!” You may have said that a little too loudly, because a handful of nearby people, including your good doctor, turned to you to find the source of the sudden outburst. “Dude,” you dropped your voice. “Get your ass home and apologize in person.”

He had the good sense to look ashamed that he hadn’t considered that was the problem. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he nodded slowly.

“Yeah, okay. Yes, yes. I will go do that immediately now. Thank you, Bambi,” He squeezed your shoulders and brought you in for a quick hug before practically sprinting back through the turnstiles and up the stairs to his lab, presumably to gather his things to go home. 

“Hey, meet me in my office tomorrow morning! And I hate that that nickname spreading!” you called after him. I don’t even like that movie, it’s too sad. 

You watched your friend’s receding back, oblivious to the sour look that briefly decorated Michael’s face as the image of Peter’s arm around your shoulders burned itself into his brain. He rushed through the end of his conversation with his colleague, bidding them a good night, and quickly returned to your side.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, searching your eyes for your response. 

You nodded, nervous excitement flooding your neurons at the prospect of being in a car with Michael. Alone. Where no one else had ever sat. 

Stop that. 

“Yes, please,” Good god, why did that sound so desperate. 

You held open the door for Michael as he passed through, which he normally hated, but he knew that you were doing that out of politeness, not pity. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and tapped a few times until one of the cars parked in front of the building beeped, lights flashing.

“Is your phone your key, essentially?” You had to ask, 

He nodded, a slightly prideful smile parting his lips. 

“Start, stop, locks, lights, heating or A/C, and a couple of other things, thanks to Jurgen’s work.”

You silently mouthed a ‘woah’ as you admired the car itself. You knew Michael wasn’t really into showing off his wealth, but his car was clearly a different story. It was a sleek, steal gray two-seater with suicide doors and no visible trunk space. This was a car for fun, not necessarily function.

“This is the body Jurgen settled on for his ingenious invention? Not exactly covert, and definitely not your style, doctor,” you needle Michael a little for this flashy display. 

Another eye roll from him as he tapped a few other buttons on his phone to open the doors. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

Fwoosh.

“In you get, Bambi, let’s get you home.”

You took of your bag and his, sitting them on the floor of the passenger side, and then sat down before taking a look at the tinkered driving mechanism. It seemed as though there were two extra sort of lever-looking things mounted on the rear side of the steering wheel. 

“Are those your versions of gas and break? Like, you squeeze them while you steer to speed up or slow down?”

“Mhm. Exactly. It’s- it does the job, helps me feel less dependent on other people if I can transport myself around. Jurgen is working on a patent so this design can be mass-produced for other people with physical disabilities,” he answered after taking a few minutes to settle into his seat, turning to sit his crutches in the small space behind the seats.

He put on his seatbelt, and looked at you expectantly.

“...what?”

“Put it on.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not moving this car until you do, so no I am not.”

Scoffing, you reluctantly buckled up, feeling distinctly like a child under his watchful gaze. Upon hearing the little click of the mechanism, he appeared to be satisfied, and woke up the large dashboard screen in order to start the car. 

“I overheard you asking Dr. Parker to come to your office tomorrow morning,” he smirked, and you remembered that you had truly shouted that after Peter. “I take it that our little talk helped you a little? Reclaim that passion?”

You inhaled deeply, recalling Michael’s kind words of encouragement after your quite insane rambling. 

“Yeah, I’m going to ask for his help with putting together a team to survey that den. He works pretty closely with security, so I feel like he’ll have good input.”

He hummed in agreement as the car started up, a little bit of his previous confusion tainting his expression.

“I thought you didn’t like sharing your project with anyone?” “I- I don’t, but I need to get over that anxiety so that the people in this building know that I have my own work to be doing, that I’m not just some intern floating aimlessly around the departments.”

He nodded, putting the car into reverse to pull out of the spot. He began applying pressure to the winch on the right side of the wheel, and the car accelerated. You were just mesmerized. 

After a second of silence, he spoke again.

“Well, you shared your ideas with me, and you didn’t seem nervous about the idea itself, so at least you know you can do it.”

He seemed just as confident sitting behind the wheel here as he did when he was administering treatment to his patients, or speaking in front of crowds on behalf of medical research. You were watching his slender fingers flex around the modified wheel as he weaved through the insane lanes of Manhattan traffic, and totally lost any train of thought when he had to suddenly squeeze his left hand when some idiot cut him off, arm tensing, expression darkening in annoyance. 

You realized a second too late that he was waiting for a response. Tearing your eyes away from his hands to instead look at his face, you tried to remember what the hell he just said to you. 

“Oh, yeah, well. I just didn’t feel like I had to justify myself to you, you know? I don’t know, I didn’t feel as nervous this time. Not with you there. Not with you.”

-----

Taglist (by specific request): @leyahwrites

[msilwrites]

(A 3AM Update) A True Gentleman, Chapter 21 - A jealous husband?

A/N: Chapter 21 is up! Isaac confronts Diana, like a jealous husband! By the way, Henry, Diana's cousin face claim is 'Henry Cavill', and Sam McLean's face claim is Sam Heughan.

Oh, before I forget, if you don't like the story, please do move on to others, the internet has lots of them. Please don't hurt writers, ya? Good! so without further ado...

TWENTY-ONE

A jealous husband

"Diana!" her cousin, Henry approaches her. "That was a stellar performance!" he compliments.

Every time Henry and she are seen together, people often mistake them for siblings. The blue cold eyes, thick eyebrows, strong jawline, and dark hair were the signature that belonged to their family.

"Thank you, Henry!" was her grateful reply. "But I know why you are here for, go and lead the way!" she says, as he leads her to where her father sat. She knew what Henry approached her for. It was time for her father's interrogation and lengthy sermon.

Francis watched Henry, followed by Diana, approaching him where he sat.

"Relax Uncle..." Henry says, as he taps his uncle's shoulder, telling him to listen instead of scolding Diana. He then walks away to give the two space.

He took a deep breath before turning to his daughter. " Why don't you take a seat..." he offers, patting the empty space beside him, which she took.

"First of all, why are you singing at a wedding?" he tried to sound calm instead of being confrontational.

" I was trying to earn money to buy a 3D Printer," was her direct answer.

" Why?"

"I'm trying to build a small workshop studio, and I need a 3d printer..."

"Oh..." Francis was taken aback, he didn't expect his daughter to have such plans. "But what happened to the money you got from the sale of your old penthouse with Jesse?"

"That, I'm keeping it to the side. I plan to use it to buy real estate and most probably have the place rented for passive income. If not, I'll turn it into the workshop studio. I planned to save money, but I think I'd earn more if I were to rent the place out."

His eyes widened in disbelief, was this still the same Diana whom he met a few weeks ago? No! This Diana has ambition, plans and direction. She was actively taking charge of her life. "Wow! I did not expect that... That is actually a good plan"

Diana smiled and just nodded.

"Do you need help?" he offers, sincerely this time, without a hint of being condescending.

"Maybe? From time to time, Thank you! Da!" Diana says gratefully. "Your advice and input would be helpful from time to time" she adds.

"That was a stellar performance by the way!" Francis complements his daughter. " Those wedding songs reminds me of a time when I was..." he said trying to find the word.

"Hopeful? Yes, I did feel the same..." she admits to her father.

Francis sighs. " You know, I really did love your mother. It may have not gone well for the both of us, but not once did I regret loving her,"

Diana looks at her father, surprised at his sudden confession. Not once did her father open up to her about this issue.

"Why?!"

"Why what?"

"Da! She hurt you!" she exclaims.

"Yes, she did... and I may have done things that I shouldn't have, but what happened to us in the past, is what makes us who we are now. We grow and become wiser,"

"I guess you do have a good point..." she agrees. It made her think about her past abusive relationships, and what it thought her. Though it was terrible, it made her learn and it made her wiser.

"So how did you exactly end up here?"

"That's a really long story..."

" We have a lot of time,"

She began her story (omitting some parts of course) and told him about the music director Aedan looking for an alto-soprano which led her to where she is now.

"I see... I am glad you're able to use your classical training, anyways, when is the date of your performance?" he inquired.

"Why?"

"I want to see it of course!" he declares.

**********

"I see trees of green. Red roses too, I see them bloom. For me and you. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world..." Diana opens the dance floor for everyone, with the song 'What a wonderful world'. The strings followed, in harmony with her voice.

Couples, young and old, approached the dance floor and began dancing to the sweet tune.

The night was about to end, and she was grateful that her performance went well. Hopefully, she would also perform well with the orchestra at the outdoor theatre.

"I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do They're really saying I love you..."

She scanned the area and saw her cousin, Henry, being surrounded by girls. She stopped her from rolling her eyes, knowing that he was a known ladies man, even since they were young. On one side was her father who seemed to be enjoying himself, chatting with others. The atmosphere felt jolly that she swore she'd try to catch up with Henry or talk some more with her father after finishing the song.

"I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself... What a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself... What a wonderful world. Ooh, yes I think to myself... What a wonderful world..." and with the last verse, Diana closes the song and the audience applauded. She smiled and thought, that it was still somehow a wonderful world despite everything she had gone through, there was still things she was thankful for.

With a sigh, she gives a toast to the newly married couple, and then turned to the quintet and thanked them, which gained her another set of 'Thank you's coming from them.

She looks around and found the bar, wanting a cold drink, preferably a beer. It's been weeks since she had anything cold and gassy. It wouldn't hurt from time to time to have an ice-cold beer after a long day of singing.

Wasting no time, she requested a pint of ice-cold craft beer on tap from the bar-tender, and he quickly poured her one large pint, its surface bubbling.

"Good job out there, you earned it, enjoy!" the bartender says, before moving to other requests.

"Thanks!" was her response.

She looked around trying to find Henry or her father in the crowd, whilst drinking her glass. However, before she could even make a move. Her father had already gone up to the podium, about to start his 'godfather' speech and before she could even look for Henry, a handsome guy had already sat beside her and tried to engage her in a conversation.

"Hello..." was his greeting, his voice deep. She looked at the colour of his kilt's Tartan, and immediately knew which family he is from.

"Wait! your name is probably something McLean!" she declares.

"Oh! wait, are you a Scott too?! Well, I am Sam McLean..." he said, stretching his hand for a handshake which she gladly took. She felt a little confident today, and talking to a handsome man isn't so bad thing to do to pass the time. Unless he actually is an asshole otherwise. She already has an escape plan.

"You may call me, tonight..." was a flirty yet witty reply from her, causing Sam to laugh. "Or you may address me as, Diana"

"Well, Diana, that was a stellar performance throughout..." he compliments.

"Thank you! I'm glad you like it,"

"You have a very nice voice! So... may I buy you a drink?!" he offers.

"Of course! Or you could get me food since I haven't had my fill yet..." she said sheepishly, not having eaten anything yet.

"Oh! of course! what do you want to eat? I'll get it for you!" he offers.

" Cake" she implores, placing both her hands together as if praying.

"Of course, I'll be right back!" he said, immediately taking a small slice on a plate for her.

"There you go! Enjoy!" he says, pushing the small plate to her.

"Thank You, Sam!" she chuckles at the mention of his name. It was the same as the pseudonym she used when she wrote those 'love' letters to herself. "Thank you. I'd say 'God Bless you!', but it looks like He already did." was her flirtatious reply followed by a wink.

Sam bit his lips and laughed. He didn't know how to respond to that. "Thanks... I guess..." he holds his laughter, and clears her throat, "So Diana, what do you do? Besides singing? "

"I am independently impecunious..." was her answer.

Sam throws his head back laughing, knowing that he had found a hilarious person and the night will definitely not be boring.

"Enough about me, Sam! Let's talk about how attractive you are!" she adds.

Sam takes a deep breath but ended up laughing once again. " You're too funny for words!" However, before he could even say more...

"Sammy, laddie, hands-off! that is my daughter you're flirting with!" Francis chastises Sam from the podium after he finished his speech, causing everyone to turn their attention to Diana and Sam at the bar, upon finding out that she is Francis' daughter.

"Well, nice to meet you Diana!" he says. "Yikes..." and slowly backs away from her. It didn't matter how beautiful she is to him, she was Francis's Rutherford's daughter and there is no way she would want to incur her father's wrath.

"Sam? wait!" she says, perplexed at his sudden change.

**********

"Sam is an international playboy, he isn't the ideal man to date!" Henry says as he fiddled with his phone. Seated beside him inside the car is his cousin Diana, whom he ended up sending back home instead, as his Uncle, Francis, still had to stay at the wedding reception.

"Oho! You're one to talk Henry! " Diana chuckles, knowing her cousin's reputation.

"It can't be helped..." was his response.

"Should I tell the girls who chase after you, the same thing you told me?"

"It won't work... they'll chase after me more!" he declares, and both of them erupted in laughter, including their chauffeur in the front seat of the car, at how true the statement was.

"Well, aren't you afraid I'd chase Sam more?" she asks.

"You won't" was his quick reply.

"Because life has already knocked some sense out of you..." was his confident statement, aware of what Diana had gone through, all those years.

"I guess you're right," she sighs and smiles at herself, turning her attention to the view outside the car, whilst a classical piano rendition of 'Moon River' played inside the vehicle, making it a relaxing atmosphere.

"Lady Rutherford, we're here..." their chauffeur announces, and he gets out of the 'Ghost' to open the car for her.

"Thank you, Higgins!" she says, referring to Henry's chauffeur who opened the car door for her.

Henry followed after, alighting at the other side of the car. "Let me send you to your door..." he offers.

"Yes, walk me there," she says, as Henry walked beside her.

"We should have lunch sometime, eh? It's been a long time since I caught up with you!"

"Yes, we should do that" she agrees.

" If you don't mind, Mum wants to catch up with you too, can she come along?"

"Of course Aunt Minerva is more than welcome! How long has it been?!" she realizes suddenly that she had met her immediately family for years now since she started her relationship with Jesse, that was no longer the case now.

"It's set then" he declares, trying to find a spot inside his phone's calendar. "I'll set the time next weekend..."

"Alright! Well here's my door" she says turning to him to give him a quick hug.

Henry gladly returns her embrace " I'm glad you're in a better place now!" he adds, giving her shoulder a squeeze as an affirmation. "Well, I have to go, I have an early day tomorrow!"

However, before Henry could leave, the door opens to reveal Isaac, glaring at him.

"I'd normally say get a room, but this isn't a hotel" was the first thing Isaac said, the moment he opened the door, and 'caught' Diana, and some man, embracing each other in front of his door.

Henry looked at him puzzled, and when he realized that Isaac got the wrong idea about them, he released Diana from his arms. "Eww..." he grimaced and quickly turns around and gave a two-finger salute before he left "See you, Diana!"

Diana took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to burp before entering the house. She had four large pints of beer and 2 slices of cake which made her feel bloated, which made her feel regretful going on a drinking spree.

"Diana?" Isaac called, which she almost didn't notice because she was busy nursing the bloatedness.

"Mmmmm?"

"Remember you had 10 things you have to do for me?"

Diana just nods and covers her mouth, trying to burp as silent as she can. "Yes..."

"Well, I'm gonna use 1, let's have a talk..." was his stern reply.

"Dr Skovgaard? can we do this tomorrow?" she pleads, as she was bloated and tired.

"No, because I don't know where you will disappear to again..." he reprimands.

She sighs as she follows him to the dining room where a long session of scolding and preaching awaits her.

She sits down, resigned to her situation and prepared herself for Isaac's long preaching.

"Diana, you often disappear and reappear to I do not know where to, it's like I'm living with a Ghost. And when I message you, you do not respond..."

"But I do respond!" she reasons.

"Yes, two days later..."

"Oh... hehehe... I'm busy, sorry, please don't be mad at me" she apologizes, and laughs softly, struggling to also hide her drunkenness.

"Busy with what exactly??!!" he inhales sharply.

"Uhhh.... you know, things? work? earning a living?" she says a little sluggish. "You know, I gotta earn my keep..." the Scottish accent of hers, starting to come out.

"Men!?" he adds.

"Ahahaha yes... men" she giggles. "I'm not really busy with them, they're busy with me, which in turn... takes up a portion of my time, they're handsome, eye candies! So I guess it's worth the time..." she laughs.

"Unbelievable!" he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Dr Skovgaard, what are you really scolding me for?" she says, trying to suppress another burp.

He sighs " First, you disappear to who knows where and then reappear a few days later! You leave my message on 'read' and respond to them a day or two later as if I'm a weird guy you have been avoiding, and then you came home late, drunk! In the arms of another man! Do you know how I felt, do you know worried I was?!" he stressed out.

Diana stares at the tall ceiling and then laughs at the realizations " You make me sound like a stray cat who just comes home to eat!"

"I never said anything like that." he shakes his head in disapproval.

"I know... I'm just visualizing..." she adds, waving it off.

"Diana, you're not taking any of this seriously-"

She didn't know if it was drunkenness, but she felt a little brave, and without warning, got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Isaac. "Alright, my love... I'm sorry, so sorry, I promise not to do it again!" she says, as her arms tighten around his waist.

Isaac, caught off-guard, stood there, frozen, unsure of how to react. "Diana?"

Diana just laughed, as she brought her hands to his cheeks. If anyone were to see them right now, it would look like they were a couple making up, after having a banter. "Oh, Dr Skovgaard... you sound just like a jealous husband!" she exclaims and laughs at his face. "You know I'd normally kiss you, but I'm not your beau..." she adds, tapping his cheek. "So, let's end this argument, and call it a day! I'm sorry, alright?! Good Night!" she says, kissing his cheek.

Isaac jolted in surprise due to her actions. He felt his cheeks, starting to get warm.

She releases Isaac from her embrace and sluggishly walked back upstairs, to her room, whilst singing a funny Scottish folk song and laughing halfway.

He sits down for a moment to collect himself and tried to process what had just happened. Trying to make sense of the feeling he currently has in his chest.

A/N: I have most probably made some grammatical errors, here and there... so I'd do some soft editing. I hope you enjoyed this one! I would also love to hear from you in the comments below.

[petals42]

Coach - Part V

Hello all. I know in my major fics I’ve made Coach and Suzanne not very nice people, but after the latest updates I figured I’d try my hand at writing canon-compliant Coach. This is in his POV so obviously Coach-centric and he is not magically a perfect ally. He’s trying though. 

3.6k; canon-compliant; content warning: homophobia; post- Coach IV

It’s Sunday. Which means Church for Suzanne always and Church for Richard when he has the time. Or about every three weeks when Suzanne starts asking him on Thursday whether he is going to make it this week instead of waiting til the morning-of. It’s his signal to go with her so she can show him off or introduce him to new folks or just re-establish that they are together and happy and she can still make him go to Church whenever she wants. 

Either way, it’s not bad. He doesn’t mind listening to the sermons, even if he’s not quite sure how much stock he puts in all of this, and the music is good enough, even if he’s not one for singing himself. 

He doesn’t even mind the post-Church chitchat. In the fall and winter, the traditional spread of baked goods made by the women of the Church is usually served in the small auditorium. It’s cold when you first walk in and then all the bodies heat it up so that by the end Suzanne will be complaining that if they don’t want to put the AC on, they could just open a window or something.

Richard knows his role in this too. He stands off to the side with his plateful of baked goods, making sure to take the ones baked by Suzanne’s friends and avoid the ones made by anyone his wife is currently feuding with. He chats with some folk who wander over, always polite, but mostly people know him well enough to let him be and wait for Suzanne to finish talking with everyone. 

They have a good system. They walk through the line of food together which is when he puts on his best smile. Then he goes to a corner, she claims she has to use the restroom but takes her plate with her and stops to mill and chat with everyone on the way to the bathroom. She’ll finish her plate before she gets to the bathroom, throw it away, and then talk to many of the same people on her way back. He’ll wait and watch and when she starts looking a little tight around the eyes or flexes her left hand in that certain way, that’s when he’ll walk up and ask if she minds leaving. She’ll say of course, they will make their goodbyes, and that’s that. 

Sunday morning. 

Usually his time in the corner is almost meditative. He lets his eyes unfocus and eats just steadily enough that people can see he is eating and lets his mind drift. It may be a weird place to meditate, in a room filled with other adults, but it works for him. Coaching is a loud job, filled with the noise of teenagers and yelling and grunts and sounds just of working in a high school, really. And then Suzanne is not loud in the same way and he loves listening to her (for as little as he inputs, really he does), but she’s not a still person. She’s light and movement and laughter and she fills up a room enough that usually he is content to just bask in her presence. It’s more joyful than meditative. 

This, though. This is just right. His brain is already a little fuzzy from spacing out during the sermon and he’s bored enough that usually he would pull out his phone, but standing and relaxing in a corner is fine. Playing on your phone in a corner is rude. According to Suzanne. And he doesn’t disagree. So he’s a little bored, unable to do anything to fix that boredom, happy to turn the chitchat around him into a sort of gray static he doesn’t have to pay attention to and just… relax.

Of course, this week relaxing is a bit difficult.

He’d been busy in the week he’d gotten back from Samwell. He had booked that flight a bit last minute so it was fly out late, late on Tuesday and then leave Thursday midday to try to make it back for Thursday’s practice because he was the head coach of a football team and, goodness Junior better make it late in the playoffs when there is plenty of time for him to actually go up and see more of the games. 

So it was practice and then cram all the strategy and tape he was supposed to do Tuesday and Wednesday into Friday and game Saturday (a win, but a sloppy one if he is being honest) and it is now, Sunday, as he stands and watches people try to eat while holding a small paper plate filled with too much food, that he is finally able to think about it all. 

About the car ride and Junior telling him that he wasn’t acknowledging his relationship and getting upset and telling him that he needed to know he wasn’t messed up, like Richard would ever think he was messed up but the fact that Junior had to even ask was--

He blows out a breath. Not angry just… annoyed. At himself. And maybe a little but at Junior even though he shouldn’t be and he isn’t, he just--

Sometimes he feels he never got credit for the things he did do. He paid for all those ice dancing lessons even though he didn’t understood a bit of it. And then when it became obvious Junior was good, he paid for that private coach and went online to learn at least some of the terms even though he was never going to be able to give Junior any actual advice on anything. Which had… well, he could at least admit that that had been a bit of a disappointment. He loved teaching and coaching and yes, see, don’t rely on your elbow so much. Power’s in your shoulder-- there you go, feel the difference? He loved being a coach. But with Junior and ice skating… he looked up enough to sometimes manage a weak Remember to pull your arms tight and Junior would look up at him and smile and nod when he was little but he got older and better and eventually he had to stop trying. Because Junior was more advanced than any of the little tips he could find and he had that private coach to tell him what he was actually doing wrong and he didn’t want to look like a fool and certainly didn’t want Junior to get annoyed with him so…

He’d moved too. He and Suzanne. Packed up their house and he’d gotten a new job away from the kids he’d been coaching for years and they never talked about it with Junior, never wanted him to feel like it was his fault but his son wasn’t stupid. He would’ve thought that he made the connection between the bullying and the change of scenery, as it were. 

And then there was hockey, another sport for him to learn enough so he could at least understand what was going on and offer tentative tips, and Samwell and taking out a loan to cover what Junior’s scholarship didn’t and flying up to see at least some of the games and he’s tried to keep things as normal as possible after Jack. Tried to make it obvious that nothing had changed. That he viewed his son exactly the same. But even that hadn’t been enough.

He looks down where he’s holding his paper plate filled with post-Church snacks and realizes he’s crumpling it. But he can’t quite get his hand to loosen. Kids these days. And even thinking that made him feel old but it was true. Kids these days want everything spoken aloud, everything talked about, all mushy, like actions don’t count for anything anymore. It just-- he could count on one hand the number of times his daddy had ever said anything like “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” but he still knew it was true. Of course he knew. His father attended as many of his football games as he could and shook his hand on his wedding day, offered him a cigar when Eric was born...

And, really, he thought he had been being pretty obvious. Right after the Cup, he had started talking about Jack’s goal and his great game and congratulating him and he thought that was clear enough. That if Jack was important to Junior, than he would care about Jack’s sport as much as he could. And then he flew up to see Junior on a week where he could see Junior’s game and they could watch Jack’s game together too. Sure, he referred to Jack as Junior’s friend, but he… he didn’t know if boyfriend was the right word or if they were using partner and, okay, okay maybe it was easier to say “friend”, at least at first. Which, okay, was wrong. But also Junior didn’t even seem to hear the rest of what he was saying. He had gone up there and complimented Jack and Jack’s team and how Jack and Junior worked together and had thought he was being obvious about starting to invite Jack over for Christmas and somehow Junior still ended up yelling at him in the car. 

His mouth twists at that. That had been… not good. Not only because Junior had been hurt and crying, but because he’d been angry and yelled and he was pretty sure he mentioned that he had had to find out through the TV, like some stranger and he…

You weren’t supposed to tell your kids when they hurt your feelings. He knows that. He’s… he’s not allowed to get his feelings hurt, anyway, from the sounds of it. From the reading he’s done in the days he’s been back. The internet says that coming out is a personal thing and everyone makes their own decision and, according to most websites, it’s probably his fault. His and Suzanne’s for not being more openly supportive of people when Junior was growing up. For making him feel like he couldn’t tell them. And he doesn’t-- well, he doesn’t remember ever saying anything blatantly rude like that, he figures he’s usually a live and let live type, but apparently all those little things-- microaggressions, the internet calls ‘em-- apparently those add up. 

So, again, his fault. 

He shifts and swings his head to find Suzanne. It only takes him a moment; his eyes are long used to flicked through a crowd to find someone just her size with that specific hair color. She’s laughing, chatting with Ruby, and from the looks of it, he’s still got a while. Which is fine. He could go find one of the guys to chat with and, as the local football coach, there’s plenty of chatting he could do but he--

He looks as Suzanne and wonders instead. If her feelings are still a little hurt by Junior’s way of telling them. If she feels old and forgotten and replaced by all those friends he’s got up at college. The ones who knew first.

He pops a cookie in his mouth. Feels his stomach twist up as his mind flashes once again to that dumb car ride. And really, how was he supposed to know Junior even cared about his opinion anymore? He had all those friends and Jack and all the Falconers who all spoke out about it afterwards and there had been pictures with Jack’s parents who were there and clearly knew and Eric hadn’t even called them after. Not for hours and hours. 

He can’t help but think it wasn’t right. Suzanne had been beside herself with worry and called him over and over and Richard thought he was pretty okay, but he didn’t like when someone hurt Suzanne. Especially not Junior. Those two talked nearly every day, it seemed to him, and it was a hell of a time for his son to suddenly be so irresponsible with his mama’s feelings. 

He takes a breath. Lets it go. Those two have clearly made up and there’s no point in fighting someone else’s battle especially if they didn’t seem too torn up about it anymore. 

He wishes he had remembered that during the car ride. That he was better at not reacting with anger sometimes. At not getting all defensive. Then maybe the car ride would’ve gone smoother. Maybe that whole mess could have been avoided. And he wouldn’t still feel so embarrassed and guilty about it even though he thinks that maybe he’d finally gotten the message through on his way to the airport. 

Yes, thank God, at least that went well. He’s pretty sure. So Junior’s good with Suanne and good with him and Jack is coming down for Christmas so that’s that.

To be honest, he isn’t quite sure what to do next. Junior seems to watch him to talk and ask about Jack, but the internet said to treat the relationship just like any other and he isn’t sure he had been planning on talking to Junior much about girls except for maybe a quick check that they were being safe and he was being honorable and perhaps a “Is she expecting a ring?” or “Seems about time you went out and got one” talk. That’s about all he and his daddy had done. 

Other things he’s doing now-- reading up about things on the internet and planning to maybe pop over to the GSA at the high school when he thinks the other coaches can run the beginning of practice without him -- those things don’t come up in conversation much. At least not naturally. So there is no way to tell Junior. Not that he wants to. Would sound too much like bragging or trying to get points for doing the basics. Which, again, the internet tells him is bad. 

Watch gay movies (queer cinema, he says in his head, trying it out from what he’d read) is next. He has to make sure he looked completely comfortable with Junior and Jack kissing and the like when they came for Christmas. Luckily, the internet has a list of ones available on Netflix. Though, he’s not sure he’s supposed to talk to Junior about those either. He found one tweet or something in his search that seemed to imply that parents telling or asking their gay children about gay movies is awkward. Like assuming they all know each other. 

There seems to be a mighty fine line between not acknowledging that your kid is gay enough and talking about it too much and making them feel all different. It’s a shame he can’t ask Junior for some advice. But he’s already done enough damage. He’ll have to figure this out on his own. He had spoken disparagingly of parades and rainbows in the car because, sonuvabitch, that seems like a hellish way to spend a Saturday, what with the noise and the heat and people all crammed into a small area like that, but if… well if it would help Junior feel better, he could probably do it. For a couple hours. Maybe. 

He’ll have to talk to Junior directly more, he decides. Not just wait for major updates to come through Suzanne. He’ll have to--

“Hey, hon,” Suzanne says, stepping in front of him. He blinks and refocuses his eyes and wonders what brought her over. He doesn’t think it’s been as long as she usually stays. “You okay?”

“Wha- yeah,” he says. “Why?”

“Just checking,” she says. “You were just looking pretty intense, that’s all.”

“Just thinking about plans and stuff,” he replies. Not a lie. 

“Plans?”

“Football stuff,” now he’s lying. “Game was sloppy yesterday. Gotta tighten up.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says, patting his arm. She knows more about football than people assume and she can talk strategy with him when he needs to, but she’s not about to do it in Church. Sometimes she gets enough gossip here to last her the week. 

“You ready to go?” she asks.

“If you want,” he replies. “I can stay longer if you want to talk to--”

“No, no,” she says. “You were up at Samwell this week. Let’s head back.”

He nods and accepts it when her path to the exit leads them through the center of the room rather than around the outskirts. There are hugs and kisses on the cheek and he nods and says goodbye when prompted and they are just about out when--

“Oh, the Bittles!” It’s Martha. Her last name escapes him at the moment but it’s not a big deal. He waits for Suzanne to finish her hug and then he leans down and gives her a polite hug as well. “How are you two holding up?”

“Just fine,” Suzanne says. Richard bobs his head up and down in agreement. “Did Todd make it today?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s got that new job so he’s just been busy, busy, busy!”

“Oh well, send him our love,” Suzanne says effortlessly. “And we certainly know what it means to be a bit busy. Especially this time of year!.”

“Oh yes,” Martha says. “It’s always like school starts up again and then suddenly it’s Christmas!”

“With somehow a thousand stressful football games in the middle.”

“Seems the weeks get shorter every year,” Richard adds which is what he always adds during this conversation. 

“And the football games get longer,” Suzanne stage-whispers to Martha where it gets its usual short laugh and Richard shrugs to say ‘What can you do?’ and he’s pretty sure they have a clear shot to the door once they finish this one. 

“Speaking of,” Suzanne continues and here it is, her exit strategy. “This one’s got to get home to plan for next Saturday so…”

“Of course, of course,” Martha says, waving them on. “Good luck!” and that should be the end of it, except Martha leans in one last time to Suzanne, speaks softly enough that Richard knows the comment wasn’t really meant for him at all, and says:

“We’ve been praying for you, you know. You and little Dicky.”

Suzanne’s smile goes a bit off-center but she is turning the lean into a quick goodbye hug already and moving and--

“Praying for Junior?” Richard finds himself saying. His blood has gone a bit cold somehow. “Why?”

Maybe he meant it to come out confused and dumb-like. It doesn’t. It comes out like he actually meant it: accusatory. Barely polite. 

Martha freezes. Suzanne sort of looks at him, her eyes flashing a bit of a warning. He doesn’t know if it’s to not cause drama or to just ignore it but he does neither of those things. He just stands and waits for her answer. 

“Well,” Martha says, glancing quickly around, probably to check who is listening. No one really appears to be so far. He hadn’t actually spoken that loudly. “Well, you know, with the… the… you know.”

“No, I don’t,” he says. Suzanne is definitely glaring at him a bit now.

“We’re not judging,” Martha is saying, voice almost a whisper. “We love Dicky. We do. We’re just keeping him in our prayers while he works through…”

She fades out or at least Richard doesn’t hear if she says more because all he can hear is his son worrying that he is messed up somehow, that he needs to be fixed, that he’s anything less than perfect.

“My son,” Richard starts and it’s a bit of a fight to keep his voice even. He clears his throat and tries again. “My son is the captain of his college hockey team, is graduating this May, and is currently dating someone who makes him very happy. A man. His boyfriend. My son’s boyfriend makes him very happy. He just told me. He is very happy.”

Richard takes a breath. Now people are looking. Not everyone, he hadn’t been talking quite loud enough to cause that, but people near them are looking and Martha’s mouth is sort of hanging open and, actually, Suzanne looks a bit shocked himself and suddenly Richard is very aware that he does not want to be the center of attention anymore. If ever. 

“I- Well I--” Martha tries to start up again but Richard cannot even express how much he does not want to hear it. 

“I reckon you should save your prayers for those who actually need ‘em,” Richard says. “Which doesn’t include my boy.”

He moves then. He doesn’t care what she has to say or what anyone else has to say, and, God help him, he doesn’t even know if he cares what Suzanne has to say, not if it’s something negative or worried about the gossip he just started. He just nods one last time at her because that’s what he does when he walks away from someone and takes a few quick strides out of the room. Then it’s down the hall and hang a left and there.

Outside. 

That’s a bit better. Suzanne is right. It does get too hot in there. 

He’s just sort of standing there, taking deep breaths, calming down, hands on his hips, when suddenly an arm links through his. 

He waits a beat before looking down at Suzanne.

Her grin is blinding.

“You are brilliant,” she says, standing on her tip-toes and that’s his cue to lean over for a kiss on the cheek and he can feel a blush coming on (Junior thinks he gets that from his Mama, but that’s all Bittle). “Brilliant! I wish I had a picture of her face. God, she’s been saying that shit-- excuse my language, Jesus-- that shit for months and I’ve just been ignoring it and you! You just… Brilliant!”

She is bouncing and happy and they walk to the car, arm in arm, like back when they were dating and, alright, let’s not throw a parade or anything, he tells her, well aware that he’s still blushing, but--

It’s a start.  

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Letter from a disenchanted student of the Divine Principle

Many Unification Church members seem to think people who left the organization are like some kind of lapsed Catholics, but most of those people just recognized Moon’s absurd and contradictory rhetoric had absolutely no relationship to reality – I pointed out many of those obvious contradictions in my previous letter to Rev Moon. Even the vaunted Divine Principle was not his own teaching. Much of it came from a woman called Seong-do Kim whose revelations began in 1923. She stated that Jesus did not come to die (not new because other Christians had taught this previously), she also taught that the fall was a sexual sin (again not new because Jewish scholars suggested this long ago and anyone can recognize the association, even sex shops use a bitten apple to advertise their wares). She also taught about the change of blood lineage through the messiah – thus justifying all the deviant sexual activity involved in the pikareum rituals. Another source was a woman called Chong Deuk-eun who dictated a book called the Principle of Life in 1946-47. It was published in 1958.

The history parallels were taken straight from the teachings of Baek-moon Kim’s Israel Monastery – being the reason they finish in 1917, which was Baek-moon’s birth date rather than 1920 when Moon was born. The final Divine Principle book was composed by a committee guided by Hyo-won Eu with input from Young Oon Kim and various professors. So rather than being a direct revelation, the DP is actually an interesting amalgam of Christian theology, nineteenth century science, Oriental philosophy and shamanism – added to the insights and teachings that were taken from various Korean spiritual groups.



This was why I felt free to approach much of the DP as almost allegorical because the main thing to emphasize was personal spiritual maturity – the development of a loving parental heart. (The real meaning of ‘perfection’.) I never believed that absolute Cain/Abel rubbish spouted by Moon and Japanese leaders. I remember one itinerant worker saying, ‘If my central figure tells me this red dress is blue then it’s blue.’ Absolutely insane – but this is exactly the kind of thing that has been propagated by the Moon family and their minions, especially in Japan, and it leads to all kinds of abuses.



In addition to the DP we also have Rev. Moon’s great blessing theory, whereby through downing a glass of holy wine and being engrafted to his lineage we become capable of conceiving pure offspring, free from original sin. These ‘blessed’ children can then form the core of the heavenly kingdom on earth, of course with the ‘True Parents’ and their children at the absolute center. However, the proof of any pudding is in the eating – regardless of how good the recipe might sound. So let us look at the results, the fruits of the messiah and his teaching.

We can start with some of his own blessed children:   Ye Jin – (Divorced.) Hyo Jin – was a drug addict, I saw him give a sermon one time when he was so stoned he had to hold on to the podium in order to stand up. He punched and kicked his wife, Nansook Hong, watched pornography, walked around with a gun in his pocket and beat up church members. (Divorced.) In Jin – was forced to resign her position because it became public knowledge about her affairs with two married members and the illegitimate child she had with one of them. (Divorced.) Un Jin – said clearly on TV that her father was not the messiah, and that the church was just about power and money. (Divorced.)

 Hyun Jin, the kind-hearted business expert who wanted to cut the salaries of our church’s jewelry workers by a third – I saw a video of him calling a church leader an arrogant bastard and kicking him as the man knelt before him. No matter what the guy was guilty of, this was just one more example of the violence perpetrated by the Moon family. Which of course was epitomized by Cleopas, the black Zimbabwean supposedly embodying the spirit of Heung Jin, who went around the world viciously beating up men and women, putting some in hospital. He even threatened church members with a pistol. (All of it approved by Rev Moon who laughed at the beatings and had himself used a baseball bat on members.)



Kook Jin – an arms dealer who said Abel wouldn’t have been killed if he’d had a gun. Divorced his wife and had himself re-blessed with a Korean beauty queen. He now has his own group of armed ‘knights’ willing to do whatever he orders. (Divorced.)

 Hyung Jin, the heir apparent (according to him), lied about getting a BA from Harvard when he actually attained a lower qualification – and if he thinks the parable of the sower is referring to ‘absolute sex’ I think he needs to go back to Divinity School. His Sanctuary Church now promotes the owning of AR-15 semi-automatic assault rifles, and has ceremonies with participants carrying these lethal weapons while wearing bizarre crowns of bullets. According to one of his recent speeches, all the women of the world are ‘Brides of Christ,’ and he of course is now in that Christ position.

Don’t want to go into details about some of the others as I feel sorry for them.



So this so-called true family demonstrates clearly that there is no difference between blessed children and any others. Rev. Moon said as much in Korea when he was talking about Sammy Park, his illegitimate son. He said, ‘The sons from the concubine are better because there is more passion involved in their conception.’ So much for the value of the blessing. 



(Of course Mrs Moon blames the bad behavior of her adult, absolute ruler children on the poor church members, as though they could do anything to control it.)



So now lets look at the practical results of all the members’ sacrifice and offerings:

 This Parc One court case (the conflict that began between Kook Jin and Hyun Jin) resulted in at least 700 million dollars of church money going to lawyers and outside companies. This is at a time when Japanese church members were being bled dry; many could not even afford to go to the dentist. (They were commonly referred to as ‘the toothless ones’ in Japan.)



Cheongpyeong – you couldn’t make it up – they were selling apartments in the spirit world! People have to be completely away with the fairies to buy into that. Mrs Hyo Nam Kim (Dae Mo Nim or Hoon Mo Nim) after being denounced as a fraud, walked away with assets worth more than 230 million dollars (including one of the top golf courses in South Korea), so her spiritual real estate business must have been doing very well. It’s as crazy as charging money so that your ancestors can attend workshops with the spirit of Heung Jin, or paying thirty dollars for two bottles of Danjobi shampoo to get evil spirits out of your hair. (This all of course also being done with the consent of Rev Moon.)

Mrs Kim was supposedly channeling Dae Mo Nim, the mother of Hak Ja Han, which was actually a strange choice because Dae Mo Nim and another woman had spent two years in jail for beating a mentally ill youth to death in one of these frenzied ansu sessions (where they beat bad spirits out of people).

That whole Cheongpyeong providence is merely old Korean shamanism, and just because people have spiritual experiences there doesn’t validate what is going on. Something many members don’t realize is that God works to educate and reach people regardless of what religion they are following.



Rev. Moon often praised Korean culture but Korea was a slave society for most of its history. Although the number of slaves had declined during the nineteenth century the institution was not legally banned until 1894, and the system survived in practice until the 1920s. At least one third of the population were slaves in the past, and the children of slaves automatically belonged to their masters – with most wealthy men keeping concubines. The Koreans always had that tradition of the Yangban, or aristocrats, being served by everybody else, even having a caste of sex slaves for that purpose.



Another tradition was idol worship and shamanism. All this drumming and beating at Cheongpyeong is actually for drawing spirits into people, not driving them out. The disgusting business of putting Moon’s semen and blood into the holy wine is more shamanism. Shamans believe if you can get someone to imbibe your bodily fluids they will come under your control. By the way, Rev Moon’s children used to refer to Mrs Kim and her people as ‘the witches of Cheongpyeong.’ To put this in perspective there are still over 300,000 shamans or ‘mudangs’ plying their trade in Korea. 



Conferences. After working on some of them I was shown very clearly that all those big science, arts and other conferences actually had no purpose other than glorifying Rev Moon. He wasn’t at all interested in any results from those meetings, only in how many famous people attended.



About 500 million dollars is donated each year by the Japanese church, but where does it all go? What great world-changing projects do you see it used for? Of what use are all these glorious palaces? The one at Cheongpyeong cost over a thousand million dollars. Just think what good could have been done in the world with such funds. This particular palace is now adorned with giant statues of Hak Ja Han with Jesus kneeling before her and a much diminished figure of Sun Myung Moon in obedient attendance. She has effectively created a new religion centered on herself by changing the basic teachings and proclaiming herself as the Only Begotten Daughter of God, the wife of God, the mother of God and God himself/herself. (What kind of mental gymnastics the present members are doing to believe this utter nonsense is beyond me.)



I know each national church lives in its own little bubble, in effect creating its own version of the Unification society and cherry picking which headquarters’ directions to implement. Each country also seems to hold onto its own view of the ‘messiah,’ effectively editing out anything that does not conform to this ideal. However, with the advent of the Internet this can thankfully no longer be the case.

It is the very core of the Unification Church that needs to be examined. The whole church has been built on lies. Even Rev Moon’s life story is full of falsehoods. Remember that picture of him carrying the man on his back; he let it be known for years that it was him before finally admitting it wasn’t.

The stories about Heungnam – I heard a testimony from one of those early disciples where she went to visit him and found him drinking tea in a nearby village! Chung-hwa Pak had been an officer in the military and was put in charge of the prisoners. He designated which tasks the prisoners should do. He was able to give Moon time off so they could talk together about his beliefs. Moon was not always being worked to death as he later stated.


He said he graduated in electrical engineering at Waseda University in Tokyo, but he actually only attended night classes at a technical high school.


The Church made out that Moon was arrested in North Korea for preaching against communism, but the charges were really for bigamy and adultery. Chong-hwa Kim, the married woman involved, was also jailed. His anti-communist stance came much later.



The story about him meeting Jesus on the mountainside is also untrue. It was Seong-do Kim who first told people she’d had these Easter revelations, then Baek-moon Kim claimed them as his, and finally Rev Moon – whose lies gave him away as Easter did not fall on the date he gave for that year. In his most recent account of that meeting he calls Jesus a bastard, and originally taught that Jesus should have had sex with his mother to restore the fall. He also claimed to have met and talked with Buddha, but until his first visit to India he thought Buddha was Chinese. 



The Tragedy of the Six Marys. This book described the pikareum, or womb-cleansing, ceremonies conducted during the early years of the Unification Church. For years we were told it was untrue, but before the book came out in Japan they started giving lectures explaining the providential reasons why Moon had to have sex not only with the Six Marys, but also with all the wives of the 36, 72 and even the 124 couples. Some of the members listening to those lectures left the church afterwards so they stopped giving them, but they started them again in Korea from what I heard.

The Israel Monastery was a pikareum church with Baek-moon Kim doing the womb cleansing by having sex with the female members. Another similar one was the Olive Tree Movement started by Tae-Seon Park. This had 300,000 members and the churches had special rooms to practice the pikareum rituals. So there were plenty of examples of this grotesque idea for Rev Moon to draw on.



The holy wine ceremony is a symbolic sexual act, but for the first years of the church Rev Moon actually had sex with the female members. This is the core of the church and it is both vile and ludicrous.



I don’t say these things lightly because I needed plenty of evidence before I believed them, but I know people in both Japan and Korea who attended lectures where this behavior was justified. In America Hyung Jin and Kook Jin have admitted such things happened. It was admitted by Young Oon Kim, Papasan Choi, Chung-Hwa Pak, President Eu’s cousin (Shin-hee Eu), Annie Choi (the mother of Sam Park), Deok-jin Kim and many others. Rev Yong also went around the world giving lectures explaining the dispensational necessity of such sex practices.



God of Day and God of Night. There used to be a shrine to this primitive Korean god to the east of Seoul. (Moon was incorporating any kind of rubbish into his mythology by the end of his life.)

I could report on even worse activities and crimes but I think this is enough for now. The Divine Principle itself is a wonderful construct, (Hyo-won Eu being something of a genius) the only problem being that it isn’t true. So much of the numerology, four position foundations, triple objective purposes and so on, is actually meaningless. There was no sexual fall and inherited original sin and Satan are non-existent. The history parallels are extremely contrived, and although interesting, prove nothing at all. There are many more aspects of the book that don’t make sense. Some parts of course are helpful, Jesus not coming to die and so on, but none of these are original ideas, so the book certainly doesn’t prove that Moon is the Second Advent.

▲ Baek-moon Kim was born in 1917. He devised the parallels of history.



As predicted nothing happened on Foundation Day apart from a few pointless ceremonies. The church leadership knew this would be the case, which is why they were already telling people to prepare for 2020, the 100th anniversary of Moon’s birth. Mrs Moon is emphasizing witnessing now. (Because tithes are an ongoing source of revenue.) She recently told the Japanese wives in Korea that if they don’t do well then their descendants will pay lots of indemnity. She seems to have forgotten what her husband said on October 27, 1999, ‘No more indemnity is needed. The providence of restoration is completed.’



I personally think anyone still teaching the Divine Principle has to examine all of the above, and then ask themselves if they are just helping to propagate a gigantic destructive fraud? Thousands of people have gone through real suffering to enrich Moon and his family. Many of them had their lives ruined by being matched and married to people they could not relate to. It’s hard to believe but Moon’s church even advertised for any Korean men who wanted wives to come to one of those big blessings – just to make the numbers up, although he charged them between two and ten thousand dollars for each purchased bride. He then matched dedicated Japanese sisters to men who weren’t even church members – some of whom were unemployed drunkards or worse. (One of these wives eventually killed her Korean husband after suffering years of abuse.) Again, ask yourself whether these matchings were the action of a loving father, or an evil despot with no concern at all for the happiness and well-being of others?



If members were matched with someone they could love and be happy with, then they were in the minority, as it was mostly a matter of luck. Remember he matched physical brothers and sisters on at least four occasions that I know of, then changed the matching when he was told about it, so it certainly wasn’t God guiding him.



If people want God in their lives all they have to do is invite him in. Knock and the door will be opened. You don’t need to go to God through Moon or anyone else, and heaven is a place for heavenly people, so if you aren’t heavenly then no blessing, white robe or inseminated wine is going to get you in there.

And just to be clear, arrogance and avarice are not heavenly attributes.



I believe anyone who has sincerely tried to serve God and create a better world has certainly not wasted their time, because God will remember their efforts whatever religion they followed, but the Unification Church, FFWPU, or Hak Ja Han’s new name for it ‘Heavenly Parent’s Holy Community,’ is nothing but a despotic money-making, power-seeking, destructive scam that should not be supported in any way.



My apologies people, no jokes this time, I’m too disgusted by the whole sorry mess.



Sloe Gin

______________________________________________

Newsweek on the many Korean messiahs of the 1970s

Hwang Gook-joo and his orgies

The Divine Principle is constructed to control members

Sun Myung Moon’s Theology of the Fall, Tamar, Jesus and Mary

Sun Myung Moon – Restoration through Incest

Shamanism is at the heart of Sun Myung Moon’s church

Japanese member, Ms. K, was forced to marry Korean man she did not like

Sun Myung Moon makes me feel ashamed to be Korean

The Fall of the House of Moon – New Republic

Sun Myung Moon’s secret love child – Mother Jones

Cult Indoctrination – and the Road to Recovery

[johnhardinsawyer]

This is Love

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 18 / 21 – Third Sunday of Easter[1]

1 John 3:16-24

John 10:11-18

“This is Love”[2]

(Loving in Truth and Action)

My family and I recently went on a socially-distanced trip to a town near the ocean.  My wife and I were excited about going to the town.  But, our almost-four-year-old son was excited about to going to the ocean.  Guess whose excitement won out?  So, there we were, standing on a windy New England beach at 9:30 on a brisk April morning – jackets zipped up, layers of clothes on top, pants rolled up to our knees, and barefoot in the sand.  It was downright chilly, but our son was having a blast.  He just loves to dig and dig in the sand and doesn’t seem to mind the cold.  My wife and I, knowing that we might only get one shot with experiences like this, decided to go with the flow on the morning in question.  So, when my son grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go in the water, daddy,” guess where I went?  I only went in up to my ankles, but the waves were so cold that it felt like the bones in my feet instantly turned into individual ice cubes.  I knew it wouldn’t last long, though, and my son’s shrieks of chilly glee warmed my heart as we ran back out of the water.  “Well,” I thought to myself in the moment, “This is love.”

“We know love by this,” writes the author of 1 John, “that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

She woke up early, just like she used to before the pandemic began.  It used to be that early in the morning was all the time she had for herself.  This was still the case, but instead of having a few quiet moments to collect her thoughts, she rolled out of bed and turned on the computer, nearby.  Her clients and coworkers needed her input and her undivided attention, and she knew that pretty soon, she would have to rouse her kids from bed and get them fed and ready for online school.  Single-mom parenting is hard enough, but single-mom parenting, and full-time working and full-time at-home-schooling is so much harder.  And yet, kids need to learn and a salary needs to be earned.  She finished an e-mail, closed her laptop – hoping she’d find some time to get back to those e-mails later in the day – and she went down the hall to wake her kids up.  Before she knocked on their door, she took a deep breath and thought, “This is love.”

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

It was so hot when he arrived at the detention center – not as hot as it had been the week before out in the desert of the borderlands, but it was still hot.  As an immigration and customs enforcement officer, he had seen plenty of children come through the detention center.  Some of them were very young.  The child he was looking for this morning was four years old.  She had been separated from her aunt and cousin after they had made the dangerous journey from Guatemala to the US border.  The little girl was alone, now, and would not stop crying for her mother who was already on this side of the border, seeking asylum from some horrific situation down in Guatemala.  She had come here for a better life and was hoping that her young daughter would have a better life, too.  The authorities were transferring the girl to a foster care home in Michigan for several days, after which the little girl would be released to her mother.  But it was hard for the officer to try to explain all of this to the little girl, even in the most gentle of ways.  Why was this job so hard?  There were thousands of children like this little girl.  Why did he care so much?  He wanted the best for his country and he really wanted to help people.  God, what on earth was this child’s mother thinking?  What on earth was he doing with his own life?  And then, in a moment of clarity, he realized that the answer to both of these complicated questions was the same:  “This is love.”[3]

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

For a whole year – shift after shift at the hospital – she had been intubating patients, holding their hands in fear, and zipping body bags in the ER.  And, for a whole year – Sunday after Sunday – she had been waiting to go to church with her children.  On the Sunday she finally went, no one – in a room of 200 people – was wearing a face mask, except for her family.  After church, she was so infuriated that she wrote:

I’m sorry that the majority of churches I’ve seen are failing their communities.  I’m sorry that the Body of Christ is not representing Him well in this area.  It’s heart-breaking and so disappointing.  Because what the church is saying is, “I don’t care that you buried your husband last month.  I don’t care that your grandmother is on her 50th day on the ventilator.  I don’t care that the rest of the world is doing a better job serving and protecting their community than the church.  I don’t care unless it directly affects me.”[4]

“Just because it hasn’t happened to them, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t care that it happens,” she thought, angrily.  And yet, shift after shift, she still kept going back to work at the hospital.  Her co-workers all felt the same way she did: physically and emotionally exhausted by the pandemic and the sick irony of some of their dying patients not believing that Covid-19 was still killing people.  And yet, as she donned two face masks, a gown, two pairs of gloves, and a face shield to walk into another patient’s room, she repeated the same phrase that had kept her going all these months:  “This is love.”[5]

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

Years ago, my daddy worked with a man named Gordon Davis.  One of the first things that I learned about Gordon, was that his brother, Rodney, had died in Vietnam in 1967.  Sergeant Rodney Maxwell Davis and his unit of Marines were attacked by the enemy and were pinned down by mortars and heavy gunfire.  Sergeant Davis crawled from man to man to encourage them.  But an enemy hand grenade fell in the trenches his men were fighting from, and without hesitation he threw himself upon the grenade.  Sergeant Davis’ Medal of Honor citation describes it in this way:

When an enemy grenade landed in the trench in the midst of his men, Sergeant Davis, realizing the gravity of the situation, and in a final valiant act of complete self-sacrifice, instantly threw himself upon the grenade, absorbing with his own body the full and terrific force of the explosion. Through his extraordinary initiative and inspiring valor in the face of almost certain death, Sergeant Davis saved his comrades from injury and possible loss of life. . .[6]

This is love.

Back in 1967, when Sergeant Davis was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, his hometown did not allow black people to be buried inside the city limits.  So, he was buried in an all-black cemetery, out of town.  In 2010, several Marines who were white, including one of the men who had been saved by Sergeant Davis, stopped by the cemetery and were appalled by the state of the rotten wooden monument on his grave.  So, they raised money to replace it.  This, too, is love.

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

I don’t know whether you know someone who has laid down their life for you, but chances are, you know someone who has made some kind of sacrifice for you – someone who has laid down part of their life or a whole way of life for you or for someone else. . .    This is love. . .  The man who visits his wife for hours, every day, even though she cannot remember his name.  The woman who gives someone the very thing they need, only to see it squandered, and yet she loves them still.  The parent who puts important plans on hold because their child made the playoffs.  The woman who lives so simply and frugally for so many years and surprises everyone by leaving a tremendous gift when she dies.  The person who says, “Whatever you need. . .” and means it.  The veteran of the war in Afghanistan and Iraq, the patient daughter, the loving and dutiful son, the co-worker going the extra mile, the caring Elder or Deacon on the phone, the friend, the stranger, the person who has something to offer and does not withhold it when they see the need is great, whoever it is that is giving themselves, and their time, and energy, and money, and skills, and gifts away because they love. . .  

This is love. . . in truth and action.

As the Bible tells us, if we have any doubt as to whether we are loving with enough truth and action, then maybe we could love more.  “But if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God. . .” (1 John 3:21)  

So, friends. . . love boldly in truth and action – not with mere words or speech.  Talk is cheap.  But giving your life by loving in truth and action?  This is the most precious gift we can give – a gift modeled after the example set by Jesus Christ, who, in his birth, and life, and ministry, and miracles, and teaching, and death, and resurrection shows us what it means to lay down our lives for others in truth and action.  

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

------------

[1] The readings for this week have been swapped with the Fourth Sunday of Easter to accommodate a guest preacher next week.

[2] A sermon in the style of Fred R. Craddock.

[3] Imagined, based on the following story:  https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/immigration/some-migrants-now-sending-their-kids-across-border-alone-so-n1261249.

[4] S in early March, 2021.

[5] Imagined and expanded, based on S’s story as well as radio interviews with nurses during the pandemic.  With gratitude for S and all hospital workers.

[6] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodney_Maxwell_Davis.

[16reapergrell66]

Kisses Under the Holly

It's the Winter Ball. Lucio had some help in the designing, but not the venue. Welcome to Loch Durgess, a small town known for lively festivities. Wyverne is a giddy woman, excited to see his face when they get to Chapel Whitehaven. Lucio has something planned, his feelings finally giving way during the festivities.

This my first 🍋, please bear with me! I'm tagging @queenofeden, @firewolf3473, @kidlightnings, @missantichrist, @athousandstarstodreamon. Enjoy my lovelies!

◇◇

It was all so strange, how Lucio readily agreed to do this. How strange it was to accept her thoughts on the decorations and food, how easily he had said yes to her ideas of holiday themed drinks. He was normally the party planner, the decorator, interior designer. All parties were his ideas, but he had let some of that control slip when Wyverne asked if he had wanted help one night, when he was hunched over his desk scribbling out different ideas and rehashing others. He had readily agreed; after all, she was his Court Magician. 

A few weeks later, on a cool day in Vesuvia, they all left just before dawn. Somewhere along the way, as the sun started to kiss the sky, it had started to change into soft snow and cold temperatures. It had turned so chilly that fine winter morning, the sun glinting on white snow. Snow drifted along the cold breeze, making playful curlicues along the ground. The carriage glistened in the cold sun, leaving tracks behind in the soft snow. Lucio had muttered something about hating the cold, softly pouting out the window, watching it fog with his warm breath.

"Oh, My Lord, it's not that bad," Wyverne had told him, an amused smirk on the corners of her lips. She had perched her elbow on her knee, leg crossed under her skirts. Her chin rested on her hand, curled up underneath, to support it.

"Only with you, snack cake," Lucio told her with a small huff and an amused chuckle. He was dressed in his best, a long, fur-trimmed cape around his shoulders instead of the usual elongated, fur-trimmed capelet he wore.

"I think this was a grand idea, Wyverne," Nadia said, an amused smile on her lips. She, too, was in her best, her legs crossed under her fur-lined skirts.

"Well, that's Lil' Spitfire. Always having good ideas," Mephistopheles smiled, stretching long limbs every which way. He considered his outfit his 'okayest', even though everyone else insisted it was his best.

The scenery outside had started to gradually change, making Lucio shift in his seat and look with more interest. What was once a dense grove of pine trees gave way to sparse woodland, opening up to lush meadows of pillowy soft snow that stretched for miles. Houses littered the meadows every so often, smoke lazily drifting from chimneys. Wyverne shifted in her seat, eyes bright with joy, gripping her brother's left shoulder and practically bouncing in her seat. He just smirked, giving his sister a look they both knew well. She bit her full bottom lip, not wanting to spoil any wonderful surprises they had in store.

The carriage came to a slow stop in the deep snow, the horses pawing eagerly at the ground, warm steam escaping their noses. Mephisto went out first, the slightly slimmer Lucio doppelganger climbing over limbs to open the door, stepping out into the brisk chill. He took a deep breath, exhaling softly, forming his own little cloud. He stepped aside, extending his hand to help the rest out of the carriage. Azlingua, meanwhile, had started to take the luggage from the back of the carriage. 

Azlingua Lochland was in her sixties, though she did not look a day over forty. Her deep black hair was starting to show signs of her age, steel grey wires peeking through the dense inkiness. Her skin was fair, and covered with just as much freckles as Wyverne, in the exact same places--cheeks, nose, collarbones, and shoulders. Her eyes shone with a youth that seemed to belie her age, and as gray as a coming storm.

"Wy, come help me!" Her voice was coarse, and worn with age. She grunted, taking one of the suitcases out of the back. Wyverne immediately moved from Lucio's side, having come out just moments after him. She placed her hands next to Azlingua's, and the two of them lifted the heavy suitcase out of the back, setting it into deep snow. The next few came easily, as Julian and Portia finally left the carriage. Mephisto then walked over, expertly slinging Lucio and Nadia's things over his shoulders. Wyverne followed suit, grinning as she ran after her brother, skirts smoothing any tracks behind her. Lucio and Nadia followed close behind, with Asra and Muriel behind them, and the Devoraks bringing up the rear. Azlingua had easily fallen into Lucio's long strides, smirking softly at Wyverne and Mephisto.

◇◇

The village was warm, bright and inviting. People bustled this way and that, excited chatter amongst hushed voices and soft laughter. Carolers sung hymns, carried on soft voices that sounded like angels. Store bells jingled, hearty laughter and shanties rang from the bars. Mephistopheles walked along the street, following Azlingua. Wyverne had been pointing out must-sees and out-of-the-way stores, plucking them from memory. She eagerly answered Portia's equally eager questions, and playfully gave Lucio the runaround with his prying ones. Asra was up with Azlingua, asking some of the more important questions, while Julian kept stride with Mephisto and joked with him. Muriel stayed silent, slightly behind Nadia who kept trying to make conversation with him.

Then they saw it. A massive chapel that had been turned into a splendid dancing hall, when its former patrons abandoned it in fear of demons roaming the grounds. The stained glass was dark, the vibrant shades of color dulled and darkened. Gargoyles stood atop spires, sneering at anyone who dared look at them. The stone seemed to mourn its loss of holy patrons, dark and cold with barely a hint of religious joy. The bell in the belfry rang out, loud and strong, lighting the way to the time--eleven o'clock in a glorious chime.

"Sis, there it is!" Mephisto lit up, features glowing and eyes sparkling. He almost dropped one of the suitcases he had been carrying, lost in his own excitement. Flushed cheeks flushed even more, a smile on his thin lips.

"Tell me something I don't know you dense walnut!" There was a soft, breathless laughter at the end, the one thing she could do that stirred something within Lucio out in public. Her cheeks were just as flushed, full lips in a wide smile, haughty laughter bright as snow started to fall again.

They all set a brisker pace, each one with warmer thoughts on their minds. It didn't take long to reach the massive oak doors, and the Lochland siblings quickly set down the luggage. Mephistopheles placed his hand on the freezing metal knocker, and gave three loud, measured taps. As the last tap echoed into silence, something clicked and the doors swung open. Collective gasps of awe and shock came from everyone, and Lucio took a few steps inside.

Sure, Lucio had given her inputs a go-ahead, making sure everything was largely his idea. But the way he pictured this was blown apart the moment the doors opened. A large pine tree sat in the middle of the foyer, its tallest branches trying to stroke the ceiling. Ornaments of all shapes and sizes and colors sparkled in candlelight, garland wrapped around the tree with care. Candles were set every so often, lit by a magical flame so the tree, and any ornaments, wouldn't catch. Every archway had a garland, richly decorated with large ornaments and trinkets and toys.

Wyverne had set the luggage she was carrying aside, and grabbed his golden hand, eagerly taking him into what used to be the room for sermon. The carpet had been taken up, exposing a rich wood floor inlaid with a compass-like design in the center. Above their heads, the huge chandelier glistened, its candles lit and casting shimmering rainbows around the space. The balconies all had garland on them as well, and beneath them were boughs of hollyberry, resting above doorways. Chairs were along the east and west walls, set up for the weary dancer to take a rest should they need to.

Lucio had wandered into the middle of the space, golden boots softly clicking on the wood floor. His look of shock slowly melted into a signature smile, looking over his shoulder at Wyverne, who was trying her best to contain her excitement. There was more, and she was letting it all absorb before she moved onto other rooms.

"How in the world…?" It was Nadia, soft and in awe. Crimson eyes were wide, soft and pliant as she took in wonderful surroundings, her black flats making almost no noise. A hand was brought to her lips, the other laid against her bosom, the rich yet simple decorations taking her breath away.

"Ilya, look!" Portia had pointed to one of the hollyberry boughs, clutching his arm. Julian looked, and casually brought Portia under one of them. He reached up to touch the ripe red berries with his hand, barely brushing them with his fingertips.

Muriel and Asra were peeking into the side doors, trying to discover some secret before the others. Faust was draped across Asra's shoulders, her tongue blepping at Asra's ear. Azlingua chuckled at the two boys, and she disappeared into a dim stairwell, taking all the luggage with her.

"So….," Wyverne started, padding softly across to where Lucio stood. "Is everything to your standards so far, My Lord?" Wyverne was in front of him, bright eyes locking with his mischievous ones.

"Of course, snack cake. It's blown my expectations." He snuck an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. His golden gauntlet traced her jawline, lightly pulling at her lower lip. "But you know, I've asked you to call me Lucio ever since you took your position."

"And you'll have to tell me at least once more," Wyverne told him softly, breath catching in her throat. She should be used to this. He was always close to her, it was part of her position as Court Magician. She swallowed thickly, and gently moved away from him, his fingers lingering on her hip.

Wyverne softly cleared her throat, trying to shake whatever had stirred deep in her abdomen, and started to show off other rooms, all equally as grand and festive as the last. Mephistopheles had gone around, meeting up with them in the dining hall.

◇◇

"So, is everything up to expectations?" He had an amused smirk, casually leaning against a high-backed chair. His arms were crossed over his chest, the delicate suit fabric crinkling at the elbows.

"Oh, it's wonderful!!" Nadia was in delight. It was one of the few parties she had attended that Lucio had thrown that wasn't gaudy as hell. "How did you manage at such wonderful decorations?"

"Well, to be quite honest, Nadi," Wyverne started, hands clasped together behind her back to prevent fidgeting, gently rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "My Lo--ah, Lucio had a hand in this. He readily took my advice, and we created the decorations together." She stumbled, trying to use his name like he asked and not his title.

"How absolutely lovely, Spitfire," Mephisto said, a smug little tease to his voice. "I wonder what else you--" His teasing remark was cut off, Wyverne's fingers pointed at his throat. 

"Watch it, you insufferable sack of boiled maggots," Wyverne warned, her magic being used to stop him from talking. She had a look on her face, a look that made Mephisto grow a wicked little grin.

"Aww, what's wrong Spitfire? Afraid of being found out?" He mouthed this, his grin growing wider and wider. His hands were up in a gesture of surrender, palms turned in a touch, fingers spread.

Wyverne felt her cheeks heat, the color rivaling that of her lipstick. Portia burst out into a fit of giggles, finding the situation hilarious. Nadia tried to stop herself, Portia's giggles being contagious. Asra had a slight smirk, if only to laugh with Portia and for no other reason. Wyverne went to hit his chest, breaking the spell on his voice, when Lucio grabbed her slender wrist with his flesh hand, his touch warm and soothing.

"Not yet, darling," he murmured into her ear, breath warm and lips soft. "We wouldn't want that pretty outfit to go to waste." His golden hand touched her side, cool even through the layers Wyverne wore.

She nodded, gently pulling herself from his grasp. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth in a fleeting moment of thought, and smacked her brother in the arm instead,  wandering off to go cool her head. Something had stirred deep in her abdomen again, warm and tingling. She couldn't shake the feeling again, no matter how much she tried. It was a craving, she knew it was. What the craving was for, she couldn't name at the time.

◇◇

The ballroom was absolutely lively with nobles and common folk alike. Some danced, others stood by the wayside, chatting and drinking. Soft music played in the background, the tinkling of glasses gently echoing throughout the space. Some patrons stood under the hollyberry, daring each other to kiss under it.

Lucio was with Wyverne, casually leaning against the wall, drinking a deep red wine and casually flirting with her. He had a smug smirk, gently chuckling at something he found amusing. Gone was the long cape, and the thin gold capelet shone as it matched beautifully with his outfit. 

Mephistopheles was out dancing with Nadia, lips resting in her hair as she laid her head on his chest, quietly chatting as they waltzed around the ballroom. Julian and Portia were also dancing around the room, having fun with traditional Nevivon dances for the holidays. Asra was with Muriel, chatting in a corner and generally keeping each other company.

"You know," Lucio began, his flesh hand caressing her cheek, thumb brushing her lips. "I've been wondering, would you love a dance?" He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, an eyetooth catching it just the right way to set off sparks in Wyverne's chest.

"I can't refuse the Count of Vesuvia," Wyverne answered, soft and bashful, a hand resting on his chest. Her fingers found the blue ribbon used to secure a gold medal around his neck, gently toying with the smooth silk.

Lucio set his glass down, and took her hand in his golden one, leading her to the floor. She followed his lead, heart leaping out of her chest at the mere thought of being so close to him. He stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, his flesh hand on her waist and his golden hand still clasping hers. Her free hand found his shoulder, trying to quiet her racing heart.

Lucio lead, his feet easily falling into the rhythm of the song. Wyverne followed him, moving where he moved, spinning when he spun her. He held her against his chest, her back against him, her arms gently crossed in front of her. His lips brushed her hair, her temple, her cheek, her neck where her pulse was just racing away. Lucio smirked against her skin, his breath tickling her.

"Ah, snack cake. You have no idea how I've longed to have you to me alone like this," he whispered against her skin. His lips were so close, his breath so warm it set her heart aflutter. "You've been so tempting to me, I've had to hold back."

Wyverne was righted, facing him again. She was held close to him, her cheeks flushed pink. She swallowed thickly, a lump forming in her throat that wasn't there before. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart as soft waves of warmth spread through her that wasn't the alcohol. His lips rested in her hair, his flesh hand having found her other hip and resting there. 

It wasn't long before she found herself at the edge of the dancefloor again, still wrapped up in Lucio. Wyverne looked up at him, a soft blush on her cheeks, warmed through by dancing with him. Lucio was so close to her already, his lips almost touching hers, that it wasn't a stretch when he decided. He leaned in a little further, his golden hand cupping her chin, soft lips brushing hers. Wyverne didn't quite register it at first, not until Lucio deepened the kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of her head. She touched his chest, allowing him to deepen the kiss, letting him part her lips to slip inside and taste her. She quietly moaned into the kiss, trying to keep up with him. Her hand touched his cheek, practically standing on tiptoe trying the deepen the kiss herself.

Lucio pulled away slowly, his breath tickling her lips. He chuckled gently, his eyes finding hers after a moment or two. He stroked her cheek, savoring the touch, letting his flesh hand smooth the hair away, and brush her soft lips. Wyverne, meanwhile, had forgotten how to breathe, her breath caught in her throat. Her lips were still slightly parted, his thumb just catching her tongue. She could feel every inch of him, even the outline of his hardening cock against her thigh.

"Meet me in the hall in ten minutes," he murmured, his hand brushing her hip now. She nodded, finally finding her breath. He kissed her one last time, finally parting from her warmth, the outline of his cock visible in his white dress pants.

Ten minutes passed, and Wyverne had enough time to slip out into a back hallway, safe save for an occasional prying eye. She leaned against the nearest wall, a warmth between her legs that wasn't there before Lucio had kissed her. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to get some friction. She slipped her hand up under her skirts, starting to play with her folds, already slick from barely anything happening.

The door opened, then closed, but she paid whoever came in no heed. Her fingers found her clit, and she began to tease, gently kneading the small bud between her fingers, trying to mimic what she thought he would do. She let out a soft keen, his name a desperate beg for something, anything, when she heard his chuckle right next to her ear.

"Well isn't this a pretty present?" Lucio reached between her legs, inserting his long, slender finger inside her warm, wet hole. "All for me….and so wet too. I wonder how you'd feel around my cock, desperate and begging for me to fuck you?" He made small come hither motions, crooking the end of his finger against her walls. She moaned, a soft whine that escaped her throat as he inserted another finger.

Lucio kissed her ear, nipping at the lobe as he slowly scissored his fingers inside of her, stretching and preparing her walls for his cock. He placed his knee between her legs, making her spread them wider. His lips followed her jawline, and moved down the side of her neck, leaving hot, openmouthed kisses in their wake. His canines scraped lightly against the thin skin of her throat, more kisses soothing what he had done.

Wyverne had slowly started to shed her layers, her need for him growing the longer he played with her. Off came the pale blue plaid, the one she had chosen to match Lucio, with running lines of silver and gold. As she started to take off the crushed velvet hoopskirt, Lucio pulled his fingers away, leaving her feeling empty. Lucio chuckled at her soft whine, making quite a show of suckling his fingers, giving himself a taste of her. She had tasted slightly like cranberry, the salt of her skin deepening what he had tasted and her natural musky scent only adding to her flavor.

"Mmm, so delicious. And I haven't even started, snack cake," he murmured into her ear, licking the outer shell as he unbuttoned himself. "Though, I think you'll find you love me on my knees."

Slowly, deliberately, he sank to his knees. Wyverne couldn't tear her eyes away, her emerald green almost lost among the black of her pupil. He lifted her skirts a little higher, placing one of her legs on his shoulder. He trailed his finger down over her slit, teasing her entrance with the barest touch.

Lucio leaned in closer, the tip of his nose against her folds, taking in her musky scent. He started with little kitten licks, barely there little laps of her. He explored her folds this way, smirking against her as she groaned for him. She wanted him to go faster, to take full laps of her, and she grabbed a handful of gorgeous blond. He skirted around her sensitive bud, his tongue lapping at her entrance. She tried to contain her little whimpers and moans, her hand tightening a little in his hair. He growled against her, making her gasp at the sound. He let his long tongue explore her wet hole, tasting every inch of her, grinning when she tried a fruitless attempt at bucking her hips. His golden hand travelled up her body, finding her breast and gently massaging the flesh there, teasing her pert nipple through the dress fabric.

Wyverne had moaned his name, full of wanton need as she placed her hand on top of his, her hips trying uselessly to grind against his lips. The warmth she felt had been growing, a knot was forming at the base of her spine. She felt his lips wrap around her clit, could feel how he suckled, how he gently scraped his teeth against it as he shook his head slowly from side to side. It was almost too much, and she was afraid of coming undone so soon after his ministrations. He pulled away with a soft pop, making her groan in frustration. She heard his chuckle, felt him hum, felt his hungry silver gaze on her.

"Not yet, my dove. I still have so much to do, and I want my name pulled from those pretty lips of yours." He took her leg off his shoulder, rising to his feet, taking out his hardened cock and giving himself a few strokes.

Wyverne grabbed his lapels, her lips crashing against his in pure desire. She had never wanted a man as much as she wanted Lucio, and yet she could still taste herself on his lips and tongue. She had gasped a little, when he had picked her up by the thighs and wrapped her legs around his trim waist, feeling the hardness of his cock at her entrance. He watched her, hastily undoing the gold buttons holding his suit jacket together, watching as she spread it apart, soft hands touching his exposed chest.

"Are you sure you want this?" Ever the gentleman, he still asked, knowing he could bring her crashing down with just his mouth.

"Lucio, yes, I want nothing else." His name was a prayer, a soft little thing that held so much hidden lust and power in her voice. He nuzzled the side of her nose, looking deep into her eyes.

Lucio felt her gasp, more than he heard her. His cock was bigger than she anticipated, thick and warm and there, stretching every inch of her deliciously. He felt her grab the back of his dress shirt, how she shivered in utter delight as he fully sheathed himself inside her. Oh, she was so warm and wet and tight around him, and he could feel her flutter against him, could feel just how close she was to her own end.

"Don't you hold back, snack cake. I want every moan to reach my ears, I want to hear my name from your lips, how desperate you sound when I fuck you with my cock." He had her chin, tilting her to face him, those last few words whispered against lips smeared with lipstick.

He started to thrust into her, slow and careful at first, drawing out each stroke, letting her feel his cock against her walls. She moaned, not holding them back, her chest having been exposed at some point she couldn't remember when, because she could feel the cool air teasing her nipples to further hardness. Lucio took a breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sweet bud, eyeteeth catching. Wyverne whined, a high-pitched sound caught in the back of her throat. He picked up his pacing a little, caught between taking it slow and ripping the gorgeous moans from her throat.

"That's right, snack cake. Let me hear you," he told her, picking up his pace.

Wyverne could feel the flame ignite, deep with her abdomen. The knot tightened further, her moans and curses tripping off the tongue. She could feel him against her neck, how he softly cursed with each erratic thrust. She could feel him kiss her, suckling at the skin, rolling it between his teeth. 

That was it for her. The knot came undone, heat spreading to every limb as his name spilled in a shuddering cry, her body arched against his. Her walls pulled at him, milking his cock. He had a few more thrusts, the feeling of her orgasm too much. His cock twitched, spilling his seed inside her, his moan muffled against her skin.

He waited a few moments, catching his breath. He pulled out, cleaning himself the best he could while still supporting her. He tucked himself back in, and cradled her in his arms for a few moments, letting her collect herself. He helped her right herself, fixing himself as well before taking her in arm and joining the ball once more.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Cult of Luthor: Second Thoughts

Not everyone is glad to see Lena. Competition isn't valued in LuthorCorp, but rivalry is. The dark, unspoken resentment of prime lab time, interesting projects and prestige of success are as much collaboration Lex allows, and Lena is no stranger to those. To be honest there were times she used to get a quiet thrill when she won out against Morgan Edge or Ainsley Merchant for prestigious opportunities. Her scores were higher, her input more valuable, her mind quicker. Her potential, the selection panels say, is undeniable. Unstoppable. But now… Now Lena doesn't feel a thing when Morgan Edge sneers about her being easy prey to idiot outsiders, and she's grateful Ainsley King keeps his distance, though his dark gaze seems to follow her, simmering with a quiet, dangerous rage that makes her skin crawl with unease. It's nothing like the friendly jibes of high school gym class. Instead she focuses on throwing herself into her work, adding herself to every housekeeping rotation, into improving the efficiency of the greenhouses and the solar panels and anything else she can think of that would prove her devotion to the compound, and LuthorCorp. Weeks pass into months. She wonders if the FBI have lost faith in her, if they assume that she's genuinely returned to the fold. Do they think she's dead? Does Kara?

The night of Sam's due date, Lena sits in the furnace room with Jack and leans into his side as she envisions herself at her friend's bedside, guiding her through the birth of her first child.

She wonders what her name will be. Her abduction falls out of the public memory, and she finds relief in the few short weeks of normality it brings-- until the commissary goes quiet one evening meal, and Lawrence steps forward with a tablet in hand. Lena's stomach sinks. It can mean one thing: punishment. Her eyes meet Jack's, her stomach churning ominously. "Outsider material has been located within the compound," Lawrence announces, his features grim. Silence answers him, but relief floods Lena. Contraband. She has nothing of the outside. Whoever will be named, it has nothing to do with her mission-- "Lena Luthor will report to the meeting hall after evening meal to receive her punishment." Lena's blood runs cold as the commissary erupts into whispers. Morgan smirks as though he's won something, Jack's fear stares at her from expressive features. Lex is nowhere to be seen. When the meal is over, Lena is not the only one to make their way to the meeting hall. Though the punishment belongs to her, the others are expected to bear witness, as she has done for countless others. Often, it would be a mild infraction, a behavioral correction delivered with the impartiality of a king. Sometimes, it's worse. Contraband indicates a lack of happiness within the community, a selfish desire for more, a willing fascination with the triviality of the outside world. It undermines the fabric of the community. It could mean something as trivial as a baseball card-- a relic of a parent's love of the sport, passed down to a son-- or as serious as drugs. Lena has no way of knowing where on the spectrum her transgression lies, as the wrongdoing isn't hers.

The meeting hall is a long narrow building at the center of the compound, used for celebrations, announcements-- and punishment.

As Lena approaches, she imagines how the last time it was used was probably to inform the community of her abduction, and here she is on her way to answer for a crime not her own.

Lex waits for her on the steps leading to the hall, his features stony. At the base, Lena slows to a stop, waiting for the community to fall in around them. Here her crime will be read, her guilt judged. Within, she knows, lies her punishment.

“Lena Luthor," Lex announces, voice carrying across the crowd. "Contraband has been discovered in your dormitory during inspection." A hysterical laugh nearly bubbles out of Lena, the absurdity of the farce hitting her suddenly. Inspections are frequent and unannounced-- if she had tried to hide contraband, she'd be smart enough not to hide it in a shared dormitory frequently searched.

But her features remain schooled as Lex extends a hand towards Otis Graves, who delivers a worn magazine into it. When Lex lifts it for the community to see, Lena's heart lurches at the sight of a half-naked woman kneeling in sand, and the publication's title in yellow block lettering. Playboy.

"Pornography," Lex declares. "After your long absence, I expected you to be relieved to be home. But it seems the outside has clung to you, and has found its way into our home along with you, in the form of the most base of idle distraction. Have you anything to say for yourself?" Lena's mind races. To simply deny possession would effectively be an admission of guilt, and a shameful attempt to escape punishment. But perhaps, if she conducts herself well, she can make her inevitable punishment work for her. "I've never seen that before," she says, swallowing thickly. "But I don't know whose it could be, or how it found its way to my dormitory. So I accept their punishment for myself, and for the community, for if someone has reached for such distraction, then we have together failed to meet the needs of their potential.” She doesn't allow her gaze to pull away from Lex's. Her chin remains lifted, her jaw tight, and she thinks she sees something flicker behind the sternness of his gaze. Approval? Irritation? Lena can't tell. After a long moment, Lex gestures for her to join him. "Step forward, Lena, and accept your punishment." The hand Lex touches to the small of her back at the doors of the hall is not reassurance. It's the slightest push of resistance when she stops dead at the sight of the chair installed at the center of the hall. Heart racing, Lena's eyes lock on the solid wood frame, the tall slatted back, and the leather straps affixed to the feet, seat, arms, and head. "Lex..." Deep, primal fear claws at Lena's ribs, nearly driving her backwards. This is a punishment she knows well, but not one ever levied in the meeting hall. It's not the community's punishment-- it's their father's. Only Lex's hand and the press of bodies filling in around them keeps Lena from bolting. Pleas lock in her throat-- anything but this. But just as they had all those nights under Lionel's watchful gaze, Lena's feet carry her forward, and her legs sit her down in the familiar chair as Otis and Lawrence move in to fasten the buckles on the straps. "As your punishment, you will sit idle for a period of twelve hours," Lex announces. One by one, Lena's limbs lock to the chair. The strap over her forehead is left for last; Lena catches Jack's gaze, dark with fury. Don't, she pleads silently, unable to even shake her head as the strap cinches tight. Don't do anything. "I hope you use your time of penance to consider the value of contribution-- not only to the community, but to yourself. If you do not serve the community, you have no worth to the community. You are as useless as you will be for the next twelve hours." Lena closes her eyes tight against the crawl of her skin, the instinctive pull against the bonds. Against the sight of Lex's eyes, glinting like their father's did. The chair had been his personal punishment-- for Lena more than anything. Lena who asked questions about things she shouldn't be interested in. Lena, who was combative with her peers when they stepped on her toes. Lena, who insisted when she should have relented. Once she's secure, she waits for the community leave. They don't. They can't-- no one may leave until Lex does, and Lex has no intention of sparing Lena the humiliation. He begins to speak, a professor at his lectern, waxing philosophical about community, distraction, and idle hands. "The time is coming for us to show the world what our community stands for-- to set the example-- to demonstrate the potential humanity is capable of!"

His voice booms, and many eyes focus on him, rather than Lena and the tears building in her eyes.

"What would they see in us, if we succumb to the same, degenerate distraction as themselves. We must rise above, we must elevate our potential, and show them the way. "If Lena Luthor-- my blood, your esteemed sister-- can fall prey to such vicarity, then it is clear that the perils of idle minds can besiege anyone, even those who may have the greatest potential of all. We must choose to assert focus and industry over the pull of slothful indulgence, or else we are no better than the outside world..." On and on and on, late into the evening, when finally the sermon comes to a close. "Look upon your sister," Lex urges finally. "Look upon her idleness, and let her punishment serve as a reminder that even the greatest potential can be rendered useless to the community, to the world, if left to stagnate." The punishment may not have belonged to her, but Lena feels the shame all the same. Under the crowd's gazes her skin heats and her eyes burn, filling with tears that spill down her cheeks when she presses her eyes shut. It's the only part of herself she can move, besides her mouth, and she knows that if she unlocks her jaw to speak only sobs would come pouring out, so she presses her eyes shut and breathes against her immobility, breathes against the memories threatening to overwhelm her. When Lex draws to a close, releasing his audience for the night, Lena opens her eyes, and catches Jack's gaze, still wide and full of anguish as he turns to finally leave with his parents. Lex lingers after the hall empties, regarding her with a dispassionate gaze. Please, she almost asks. Please, Lex. Don't leave me here. Because she knows he will. Father always did. But she says nothing, and Lex says nothing. He leaves without a word, and as he nears the doors the lights overhead extinguish, plunging her into a silent, pitch black. The door echoes when it shuts behind him, sealing Lena to her misery.

Lena's thoughts race as the darkness presses in on her. She searches for reason, some rationality to explain why Lex chose this as her punishment-- why this chair saw the light of day, why he allowed it to be seen by the community. It was always their secret shame, endured and unspoken of. Lionel always expected his blood to be better than the rest, and so his punishment was stricter than any he visited on another potential. When he died, Lena thought this punishment had been buried with him. There's not a single excuse Lena can fathom that brings her peace. Not when Lex knows of the dread the memories of this chair brings. Not when he knows she used to stay awake for days after a night in the contraption, unable to sit still long enough to rest. Not when Lex used to calm her nightmares, promising she wouldn't be seeing the chair again that night. Her heart pounds faster and faster as the dark and the silence and confinement slowly drive her mad. The calm she clung to during the humiliation of her punishment shatters-- she struggles against the straps, pulling and twisting and squirming what little she can in an attempt to slip free, and heaves great, wracking sobs when the straps hold her fast. When her tears and her struggles run out, the anguish leaves her hollow with exhaustion. Only her desperation remains, and her mind reaches to be anywhere but there.

Kara reaches back.

Kara's arms wrap around her, voice soft in Lena's ear as they embrace that final night. “I'm going to keep the apartment we chose,” she'd told Lena. “Eliza and Jeremiah said they'd help cover rent until you get back. So you have a home waiting for you, whenever you're finished.”

“It won't be long,” Lena promised. A lie, she knows now.

“I'll miss you. But I'm really proud of you too. You're doing a good thing.”

Lena had nodded into Kara's shoulder, even though she couldn't quite believe it past the pounding of her heart. Even now, she can smell the scent of the fabric softener that scented Kara's sweater.

“We will see each other again,” Kara declared. “You still have a ton of movies to watch…”

Despite the discomfort of the unpadded seat and the pounding of her head under the tight strap keeping it in place, Lena slips into a fitful doze, her mind filled with nothing but the imagined warmth of Kara's arms around her.

[blookmallow]

im DOING it im FIGURING SHIT OUT im making SO MANY IRON BARS now and UNLOCKING things and. progressing basically everything except my actual graveyard, which was the point of all this in the first place, but i’M GETTING THERE, AT LEAST :’) 

-----

I OPENED A SECRET PASSAGEWAY IN MY BASEMENT AND SOMEHOW ENDED UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE VILLAGE

[kronk voice] what are the ODDS of that trap door leading me out here 

this makes no fucking sense. it takes so long to walk over here but i can walk like half that distance in my basement and somehow end up here. i can only conclude there is a spacetime rift in my basement

i mean technically i got here in the first place because of a spacetime rift or something so i guess thats not actually unlikely 

coward

i like the “yet.....” though lmao 

donkey decided it was time for a labor strike. viva la revolution

i agree though he absolutely should get paid for carrying that cart back and forth all day, though i am not sure why that responsibility falls to me and not whoever he’s getting the corpses from in the first place, but i guess he’s also working for me

at first i was very uninterested in the fact that i can apparently also do farming in this game about graveyard management (bc i need carrots to pay my donkey friend for his services) but it appears all i have to do is plant seeds and then carrots happen a few days later, i dont have to like. water the plants or anything so thats fine by me i can periodically plant carrots for this guy

I ALSO FUCKIGN FIGURED OUT I *CAN* ACTUALLY TRADE IN MY BURIAL CERTIFICATES FOR MY PAYCHECK, AS WELL, THE SHOPKEEPER LIED TO ME, FUCKER DOES HAVE MONEY 

i mean maybe he didn’t at the time and i didnt understand the trading mechanic well enough to realize it,

its like skyrim where you can see how much the merchant has/they only have a limited amount of money but he DEFINITELY had enough money to pay me for my certificates and i have no idea how long he did. or why he A) told me he was broke when he wasnt, or B) never bothered to inform me when he got more money in and could afford to pay me 

this isn’t just like some random guy im trying to sell stuff to either he’s like. technically the innkeeper but also Essentially The Head Of The Village and this is supposed to be his responsibility 

anyway i cant tell if i got Temporarily Swindled or if im just stupid and didn’t understand how to sell things (GRANTED IT IS VERY CONFUSING AT FIRST) but i SWEAR he said he didn’t have the money when i met him

ALL THAT TO SAY I FINALLY HAVE MONEY :’) not a lot of it but like, Some. enough to buy seeds sometimes. 

i also get a little money from my sermons now, and im not Really sure its ok for me to be using the church donation funds to like, go buy carrot seeds so the corpse donkey will continue to bring me presents (the presents are corpses) 

like im not really using money to renovate the graveyard im mostly just crafting a bunch of shit out of like, rocks i found and trees i chopped down myself but w/e this doesnt seem like a very. well run respectable church in the first place :’) i AM trying to help out as many people as i can, for what thats worth,

i also failed my first sermon for some reason despite the fact that it was exactly the same as my second one. there doesnt seem to be anything i can Do really other than. input my. prayer. notes. or whatever it is. to summon Faith. i have no idea lmao im STARTING to get SOME of this though im doing loads better even if half of it is still mostly incomprehensible 

i rebuilt a fuckin BRIDGE!!!! its the worlds shittiest looking bridge but theres SO MUCH IRON over here so my crafting quest has become much easier 

my organs chest is coming along fabulously, as well

everything stacks except for organs i dont know why and im not sure what im going to do when i run out of space for organs considering i still have no IDEA what i can even do with these 

i dont understand the actual grave duties parts at all, i get corpses, i Can take all this stuff out of them but there’s no apparent use for any of it (im pretty sure i can sell the corpse meat if i manage to figure out how to get a forged approval stamp though lmao) it seems to lower their. quality?? or something?? and sometimes produces a “Surgical Mistake” bc my dude’s butchering skills arent that great yet but i have no IDEA what the Quality, or whatever it is, of the corpses even affects at all. removing some things seems to make it go UP for some reason but some things make it go down. my guess is im very bad at embalming and im removing all the wrong stuff and i dont have like, embalming fluid or anything so i dont really know what use it is to drain the blood out anyway except for like, Now I Have All This Blood

i guess maybe it’s messing with the quality level of my graveyard (which i do know i can improve by making nicer gravestones and stuff. that at least makes sense and I KNOW HOW TO DO IT, IMAgine) but i also don’t know what the graveyard quality affects either. my first task was to get it up to 5... uh. grave. points? but there isnt any clear indication of like, what next levels i want to be at or w/e. im at 16, whatever that means. im also running out of grave space which is definitely about to become a problem. i may have to start dumping some of these corpses into the river unless i can figure out how to unlock cremation :’   ) 

and im currently at a standstill on one of my quests because i need water to make a few things. i have a well. i can get a bucket of water from the well. but A Bucket Of Water and Water seem to be TWO DIFFERENT THINGS for some reason. im stuck bc i cant figure out how to get the water out of the bucket. im thriving 

I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO GET A PASS TO GO INTO THE TOWN AND I GOT FUCKIGN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING AND DIED 

my skull friend says Something Doesn’t Want You To Go There and im just like god damn it i wanted more shops 

anyway ive now completely filled up my gross chest and i still dont know what to do with any of these. i stopped collecting things that dont stack since i dont know what to do with them anyway but its hard to resist the temptation to cut out a guy’s heart when given the option to :’ ) 

[nozomikei]

Good Vibrations

☆Nsfw☆

Zenos x Ambiguous Wol

Aymeric x Ambiguous Wol

_______________________________________

Pretty sure I posted this once before, but I can't remember and I can't find it without the search function, so you all get to enjoy this ficlet again! Made some very minor changes too tonight. ^_^

_______________________________________

You squirmed nervously in your seat at the Rising Stones, your hot face hidden intermittently by your mug while you tried to read a tome on Kugane.

After your latest tryst with Zenos the man had given you a device, imperiously instructing you to wear it until you saw him next. It was a small enough thing and a brief examination gave you a clue as to where it should be worn - his smirk in response to your suspicious glance all but confirming it. You nearly refused just to frustrate him but your curiousity and lingering satisfaction at his hands (and mouth) won out. He had watched you put it in place as you dressed to leave, a smouldering blue gaze that nearly had you stripping again before your senses took hold and you made your escape.

[[MORE]]

Although it was an unusual sensation to have something in you this way for so long, thus far nothing unusual had happened in the day since you had left the monster's side, and you had about concluded that it was some strange Garlean fetish and nothing more. Still, the knowledge that you were wearing such a lewd thing given to you by your enemy (your friend, your lover) here in the heart of the Scion's territory had you on edge.

Nerves too frazzled to take it anymore you stood to leave, intending to check out some of the details mentioned in your book (and perhaps to try to get away from the tension your location was causing you). No sooner had you straightened your legs than they gave out as a sudden vibration from within you began. Sitting stunned and quite unexpectedly aroused by the sensation you almost failed to respond to Riol's question on your wellness in a timely manner, but you thought you choked out a mostly normal sounding 'Just got to a good part...' as no further questions followed.

What exactly had Zenos given you?! You should have known it wasn't as innocent (to be fair the location it was worn was hardly wholesome) as it appeared.

As soon as the supremely distracting vibrations had stopped you attempted once more to escape, this time more successfully, though you went to your estate instead of the Far East. The moment you reached your room you began pulling off your bottoms to remove the devilish device. You hesitated to simply place it on a table and eventually begrudgingly took it to the washroom to clean it before you plopped it down to receive your glower. After only a few minutes of intense glares it resumed its vibrations (you were glad nobody was around to witness you nearly falling out of your chair as you reared back), slowly moving across the table with the buzz. The memory of the... pleasant... sensation it had created earlier, and the fact that it had done you no harm that you could discern, had you blushingly pushing it back into place, the vibrations having yet to cease.

It felt even better than before now that you knew what to expect and you made your way haltingly to your bed. Irritatingly the vibrations chose that moment to stop and you let out a curse knowing that it could only be Zenos behind the controls of this thing. Before you could get yourself too worked up it turned back on, though this time it started and stopped in intervals, the pacing of which reminded you of your meeting with Zenos the previous night. In fact, it seemed to be exactly mimicking it. The bastard almost certainly knew you would recognize the patterns he had forcefully taught your body, had probably calculated that you would retire to somewhere more private following the initial surprise. A genius and master tactician putting his skills to work on such a thing was suddenly hilarious and you laughed around your panting. Well fine, if he was going to goad you to this you saw no reason to resist. Settling into your pillows you reached down and let yourself be taken away by pleasure.

---------------------------

The next time the Garlean demon struck, you were seated in the church in Ishgard. Aymeric and Lucia had invited you to attend their newly restructured masses, and you were happy to do so if it meant more time with your busy friends. Sandwiched between the two on the pews and the priest mid sermon it was all you could do not to leap from your seat when the cursed vibrations began. After the last time you had thoroughly conditioned yourself and knowing what they buzzes were and who was causing them, what he was probably doing at this moment himself, your mind was thoroughly clouding over with pleasure as well as panic. You thought you were doing rather well controlling your breathing after the initial surprise, but you could feel your face filling with heat, the warmth migrating to your ears and neck as well, and you were subtly shaking with the effort not to squirm or touch yourself.

Something must have eventually given you away though since about five minutes of pleasurable agony in Lucia leaned over and smirkingly whispered, "A Garlean lover, hm?" Perhaps the tech somehow interacted with her third eye, but regardless of how she knew, you were humiliated (and strangely turned on; look at how that monster had twisted Eorzea's Warrior of Light). After another minute she again leaned over to whisper, though this time she let you know that she would cover you if you left at the next break in the mass.

Stumbling out of the main hall it was all you could do to find a darkened alcove and shove your hand between your legs and bring yourself to completion embarrassingly fast. The wrongness of such a thing happening in a church, the public setting, the need to try to act normal instead of melting into a moaning mess all combined into an overwhelming, sinful pleasure you couldn't resist.

-------------------------------------

You were starting to think there was some sort of tracking device built into this thing.

You were at dinner with Aymeric that evening following the nightmarish (exhilirating) mass, finished with the main meal and now reduced to sipping wine and nibbling the delicious dessert that had been provided by the exceedingly handsome lord. The wine was just beginning to make itself felt when something else did as well. By this point you were constantly on guard and expecting Zenos to employ his evil device at the worst possible times and so at least managed to give no sign that something lewd had begun. You were as affected as before but managed to initially pass off your odd behavior as side effects of the wine when Aymeric had inquired. The lord's questions had grown increasingly personal and his demeanor more romantic as the hours wore on and your arousal deepened.

Zenos had made it clear that he had no expectations of exclusivity so when Aymeric had asked if he could kiss you, you had no reservations about nearly diving around the table to give your answer. Somehow the inappropriateness of your insides being secretly massaged at the hands of one man while passionately kissing another was electifyingly hot and you worried for a moment that you would scare Aymeric off, but he took your passion in stride and met it with equal fervor.

Eventually he called a halt to your joint exchange citing the late hour and newness of your open 'relationship', (the torture device fortuitously also giving you a rest) and invited you to stay in one of the spare rooms.

You were just leaving the washroom with your face still damp around the edges, still terribly aroused but restraining yourself until you got into your borrowed bed when you heard a noise from a few doors down. Your curiousity had you walking closer almost before you realized it. The door was not quite closed and this close you could hear the unmistakable sounds of Ishgard's Lord of Lords pleasuring himself. The desperate gasps of your name mixed among choked moans, shaky breaths, and the wet noises of a hand stroking a lubed up dick almost instantly had you weak kneed and slumping against the wall. You came before Aymeric did and hurried back down to the washroom, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel embarrassed knowing you had been close to the the edge after struggling with two highly pleasurable inputs at once. Loudly shutting the door and making your way to your room you settled in and quickly passed out, exhausted from the day's events.

-------------------------------

By the Twelve, did Zenos ever sleep?!

First thing in the morning you were awoken by an insistent buzzing inside, but it ended almost as soon as it began and you drifted back to sleep. Sometime later the same happened but you decided to stay up, puzzled by the change.

Breakfast with Aymeric was a sweet, blush filled affair interspersed with tense minute long bursts of activity from Zenos. Your companion's reddened ears made you wonder if he hadn't realized his error regarding the door at some point, though he did an admirable job at acting normally otherwise. There were more kisses before you left the handsome lord to take care of a variety of tasks you had gathered for yourself as the Warrior of Light.

----------------------------------------

Zenos was an ass and you were going to kill him. Or make him beg for release and then kill him.

Sadistic monster that he was, Zenos had kept up the short bursts of vibrations the entire day and you were certain you would go mad from the torture. You would have taken care of yourself already but you had gotten the coded signal from Zenos on your linkshell shortly after you left Ishgard and the day of a tryst following the signal neither of you was supposed to cum before you met up. You could always violate the agreement but where was the fun in giving in first when greater satisfaction was on the horizon?

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

(ao3 story link)

A/N: HERE WE ARE. The story began with Jamie getting ready for a Reagan Family Sunday dinner and 40-some chapters later, it wraps up at another one. This is the last chapter of A Made Man, the third installment of The Penthouse series. What a damn ride this has been. Oof. Thanks for being here for it all.

Chapter 47.

“Uncle Jamie, that’s a pretty sick watch.”

I barely hear the observation from my nephew Jack across the dining room table. My gaze is fixed on the mountain of macaroni and cheese on my plate in front of me, the sight alone making my stomach turn.

“Hey Uncle Jamie—” Danny’s voice cuts through as he settles into his seat. “Jack likes your watch.”

“What?” I utter, glancing up. “Oh. Thanks.”

“That new?” My brother questions with a nod.

I twist my wrist to look at the watch Noble gave me, then clear my throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Let’s be a little less focused on sick watches just before we say grace, huh?” My grandpa announces and I see Jack snicker with a look to Nicky at Pop’s choice of words. “Since you’re the birthday boy, how about you lead off?”

Suppressing a groan, I scoot closer to the table and rest my elbows on either side of my plate. “Since it is my birthday, I reserve the right to pass,” I decide. “Someone else.”

“Oh, boo!” Danny jeers. “You don’t get a pass.”

“You pass all the time,” I argue.

“Alright, I’ll start.” Erin announces.

My dad pipes up, “Somebody please.”

My sister clears her throat. “Bless us, O Lord—”

Clasping my hands, I tip my forehead down and rest it there, just praying to make it through dinner. 

After grace, as everyone’s passing dishes, I’m relieved, and a little hopeful I can tune out, when Nicky takes over the conversation.

“Was anyone else really moved by that sermon?” She announces, passing the requested salt and pepper over to my dad. “I thought it was so romantic.”

“Romantic?” Sean protests. “Gross, it’s church.”

“Not gross,” she contends.

“I thought it was very beautiful,” Linda indulges her.

“I went and looked up that quote Father Quinn used when he talked about loss and love,” Nicky tells the table, adjusting to pull a folded piece of paper from one of her pockets. “It’s not from scripture; it’s from a book by C.S. Lewis.” As she unfolds the note, she glances up at my father. “Is it okay if I read it, Grandpa?”

My dad inhales deeply through his nose and then offers her one of his tight-lipped smiles to humor her. “Have at it.” 

Nicky grins, straightening her shoulders. “In love,” she recites, “there is no safe investment. If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact, lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness--”

I scoff this unintended loud breath and hunch over my plate, as if I could somehow escape this. 

Slowly, she turns her gaze my way. “I’m not finished.”

“Your niece is trying to appreciate literature,” Danny taunts. “Do you mind?”

Acquiescing, I merely gesture to her to carry on.

“But in that casket,” she resumes. “It will change. It will not break, but instead your heart will become impenetrable. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is hell--”

“Alright--” Erin speaks up while the end of Nicky’s reading prompts looks from Danny’s kids.

My brother chuckles. “It’s a little deep for fried chicken night. That’s all.”

“Give me a break,” I mutter, reaching for my water. “Who gave the homily? Doctor Phil? Glad I missed it.”

“I really enjoyed it.” Nicky shrugs. “I think it’s so true. To love is to be vulnerable--”

“What are you talking about?” I hear the way my voice cuts harshly into her easy tone, but I’m too tired to come off any other way. “You’re too young to even know what that means, Nicky.”

“Well wait a minute--” she disputes. 

I lean in to look past her at my sister. “You gonna let her spout off about the dangers of love? I didn’t think that was a concept you would endorse.”

Erin just meets my gaze, pausing to draw in a thoughtful breath.

“It wasn’t meant to start an argument,” Nicky insists. “I was going to relate it to the job of being a police officer--”

“Yes, that sounds good,” my dad speaks up. “Let’s relate it to the job.”

“No, let’s relate it to Jamie,” Danny cuts in. “Since that got him all torqued up. What happened, kid? You forget to lock up your heart in the casket of selfishness?”

Nicky giggles at the jab.

I drop my fork and it clatters against the plate as I push back and get to my feet. Turning away from the table, I stalk off out of the dining room.

“Hey. Hey!” I hear my brother holler after me along with Erin who calls my name.

But I can’t listen to this shit. I’d rather sit and have to deal with with my grandpa gripe about those homosexuals appropriating the word gay. It used to mean happy!

I’m not sure where I intend to end up so I just make my way to the bathroom and shut the door.

Already I regret the dramatic storm-off because now I’ll be expected to provide an explanation. Plus that was shitty to do to Nicky.

But of all days, this has to be the one where someone initiates some damn discussion about heartbreak like a cruel joke they’re all in on. 

I pinch right between my eyes and take a deep breath. Fuck, I’m gonna throw up. 

My core seizes and it's only a moment later that I do.

***

After a few minutes, splashing water on my face, attempting something that comes off as normal breathing, I make my way back to the dining room.

“Jamie are you okay?” Nicky speaks up. “I’m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry, Nicky.” I sigh, holding onto the back of my chair where I stand. “I’m uh— I’m not feeling well. I think I need to—”

“Did you puke?” Sean wonders, prompting a look of disgust from my grandfather as he chews.

“Sean.”

“It’s your favorite dinner,” Jack adds. “Mac and cheese for your birthday.”

“Boys—” Linda leans in. “Uncle Jamie doesn’t feel well.”

I acknowledge my nephews. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Mom made a cake.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Linda notices. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Deciding not to argue with Danny’s wife, I simply nod. “Yeah. Maybe that’ll help.” Then I turn and head for the staircase. I could try to make it home, but it’s highly likely I’ll throw up again or have some kind of panic attack behind the wheel. So I settle on hiding in my old room upstairs instead.

I never come up here. My childhood bedroom is now this half-transitioned guest room, but a few remnants — a Harvard pennant, along with framed prints of pictures I took at Joshua Tree, a camping trip I made the summer between undergrad and law school — still hang on the wall near my bed. The old Parking For Jets Fans Only metal sign has been hung up by the door for as long as I can remember. It’s weird how these things take you back in time. 

The tall bookcase in the corner displays a few diecast model cars Joe and I used to collect, books I loved in high school, and a stack of CDs next to my stereo. 

I sniff a soft laugh when I peruse the album titles, so distinctly an era that seems a lifetime ago. Sliding out the case for U2’s Rattle and Hum, I pry it open and fit the disc in the CD player. I set it to shuffle the songs and then turn to fall across the bed. 

I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I screwed up so many steps ago, I can’t pinpoint where. I could go farther back than the night I met Noble. 

I think about when I proposed to Sydney. I was twenty-six, deliriously self-righteous after three years in the bubble of ivy league law school, acing the bar exam and convincing myself I’d never wear the NYPD uniform. 

I don’t know what life I pictured for us. But it was an easy enough fit. 

And then my brother was killed. 

The devastation was so consuming I thought I’d never be capable of caring about anything after the loss of Joe. Since, I’ve had to find life with some other purpose. With that engagement in a sort of permanent limbo, I enrolled in the Police Academy. Because it was inevitable? Because I had something to prove? A calling to step up for Joe? Probably all of it. 

And if I never had — If I’d stayed in private practice, married Sydney — would I feel like this much of a fuck up? I’ve never second guessed leaving that path behind until now. 

All I know is that I wish I’d never met Noble Sanfino.

A light tap on the door draws my attention across the room. It eases open and I see Erin, lingering there with some hesitation. 

I simply turn my gaze back up to the ceiling. “What now?” I murmur.

“Jamie, what happened?”

Exhaling a pained, breathy laugh, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She steps in the room enough to close the door. “I take it you had a talk with Nick.”

“We’re done, Erin,” I tell her. “It’s over. So— Nice work.”

“Jamie.” She says my name again with this concerned shock and it’s such a fucking joke to me.

My head throbs and I just want this all to be something I never think about. 

“What do you mean it’s over?”

“I questioned him about whether he knew Tommy Messina. He doesn’t. But the reality is he can never be safe in New York so what’s the point? He ended it and he’s staying in Florida. There isn’t much else to explain.”

She comes closer, arms crossed over her chest and glances around the room. ��That can’t be the only solution.”

“Well that was his solution so—”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”

Fuck off, I want to say. I sit up and put my feet on the floor. “Erin.”

“I like Nick a lot.”

I just shake my head and cough out this unamused laugh. “What does that matter now?”

“If I hadn’t called you with that information, would this have happened?”

I shrug. “It would have come to this point sooner or later. I guess we just didn’t want to face it until we had to.”

“So now what?”

I look at her like what the hell do you think. “I guess you can sleep at night without the threat of your car being set on fire. What do you mean now what?”

“You love him, though.” She says it quietly because this is a bizarre conversation we’ve never really had. 

If anything, her input on my relationships has only ever been her chiming in with smug, big sister commentary that I never asked for. 

“I’ll get over it,” I mutter.

She sits there a minute as if she’s contemplating her role in this. It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done.

Eventually, she softly attempts her next question. “Do you plan on coming out to Dad at some point?”

I glance at her, my brow furrowed. “Come out about what? No.”

She sighs when she figures that’s a dead end path and tries another way.  “There are options, Jamie. I mean you guys could live in Connecticut, that’d probably be a safer situation, and you could commute—”

Confused, I just shake my head. Don’t do this, don’t fucking problem-solve after that bullshit phone call this morning that prompted this whole fallout. As if I’m anywhere near the right frame of mind to look at the situation with some kind of reason.

Blankly, I merely offer, “I know.” And that nauseated feeling starts to spin in my head once more, but I go on. “That wasn’t the conversation though. We weren’t at a place where we’re like, ready to live together. I don’t know. It’s like, all of a sudden—”

Exhaling hard, the muscles in my chest seize. I try to tip my head back and breathe up at the ceiling but the air is trapped. So I lean forward at the waist where I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head between my knees. 

I feel Erin’s palm up the center of my back. “Hey, hey, hey— It’s okay. Jamie, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have even considered—”

“Shh.” She cuts me off. “You need to breathe.”

There’s a tightness in my throat and I feel like I’m choking, Like my inhale doesn’t go anywhere. I can tell myself I’m sinking into an anxiety attack but my body doesn’t listen to the rationale. It’s terrifying that I know what it is and I can’t stop it. Telling myself I’m okay doesn’t make it relent. 

“Jamie,” Erin whispers. Then I feel pressure on my back like she’s resting her forehead there as she sits beside me, the weight steadying me. 

She’s had to do this before. But it hasn’t been since mom was really sick, there near the end, that I’ve felt the grip of panic on me this tight. Usually, I’m able to anticipate it, unwind it before I’m held captive, but not this time. 

“Try to breathe in for four seconds,” she says. “With me. Okay?”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to draw in a deep breath but I just cough out air almost like a sad laugh. “I can’t.”

“Okay two seconds,” she bargains.

I make myself sit upright and press my hands on the edge of the bed. “Goddammit,” I mutter in frustration.

“Try again. Let it be all you think about.”

Hanging my head, I inhale deeply, channel my energy into a steady breath that expands my back.

“Let it out just as slow.”

I do. But there’s still this hard squeeze like someone’s pressing just beneath my ribcage.

"See that was four seconds,” she murmurs. “Show-off."

"Don't patronize me," I manage.

Erin laughs softly and continues the steady back and forth path of her hand on my back. "Fine then as far as breathing goes, I've seen better."

Finally I exhale in amusement and just shake my head. I work on another breath.

I keep on like that for a few more, determined to follow the pattern — in for four and out for four, the sounds of it loud between my ears. It’ll pass. I can’t fight it, I have to just know I’ll get to the other side. But fuck, I don’t even want to. This will be over and Noble will still be gone.

After a few steady moments, Erin squeezes my shoulder.  "This song," she muses, letting the slow-building track of All I Want Is You set a soothing rhythm to the air I take in. "Remember when Joe and I took you to that U2 concert? You were what, you’d just graduated high school?"

Another gradual breath while I think about that night out in the city. "Yeah," I answer. "Danny was on modified assignment working The Garden."

Erin chuckles. "I need to remind him of that cushy little gig next time he tries to say the bosses are too soft on you."

I sit there and let the music sink through me. This song is so goddamn sad it hurts. First Nicky’s absurd to love is to be vulnerable speech. And now the lull of Bono’s haunting voice musing that all the promises we break, from the cradle to the grave, when all I want is you — everything is a joke. 

I focus on the memory of that night, years ago with Erin and Joe. When simple shit like going to concerts and walking around New York, our ears ringing and our voices hoarse, was enough of a thrill and not a lot else mattered. “We had nosebleed seats,” I recall.  “And Danny managed to get us down front."

"That was a pretty awesome night."

I breathe again and the sick feeling starts to dissipate. "Between that, and this room, it's like… I'm remembering another life." 

She glances up and around, seeming to consider the memories held in time here. "It sort of was."

I swallow hard and close my eyes. "Somewhere I went wrong, Erin."

She just turns her gaze to me and offers a quiet "Shh" worried I'll get worked up again.

"How is this where I'm at?"

"Jamie, don't look for answers now."

"I have to look for answers or I'm gonna start missing him like hell."

"So let yourself miss him."

I take another slow, deep breath as the heat beneath my skin begins to taper off. At this point, it’s like missing Noble is all I have the energy for. It’s all I can do to tip back across the bed once more and close my eyes. 

My empty heart dwindles its beat down to something that almost feels normal, leaving the slightest flicker of clarity, reminding me that my only control is over what I do next.

[shikiwrites]

Little priest

CHAPTER ONE: THE DECEIVER

Morning mass was always beautiful. The way the sun slipped in threw the staining of the glass windows. Illuminating the church and all that were in it. One by one, the body lined up and took sips help by the hands of the saints. Levi recited the word as each one came to him in repentance, giving themselves once again to the one and only high ruler. As the sermon took place, his eyes wondered slightly to the side of him, until they stopped on a fellow saint. A handsome and alluring saint, like himself. His golden hair and pale skin always seemed to distract him at the most inappropriate of times. With a blush on his face, he turned back and focused on the people in front of him, hoping no one saw this small act. Levi hid it as best as he could, but something was always wrong with how he felt. it was wrong, right? It had to be. Levi had not always been right in the eyes of God. He had a troubled past and worked hard to deserve his forgiveness. he wouldn't fall astray now. And there was no way he'd drag such a pure soul down with him.

As the sermon ended and the body left, the saints all retreated to their respective rooms. They all shared and lived within the churches walls, a safe place where they could all ensure they could never be tainted by the outside world. Making his way to his room, Levi felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw the tall blond staring at him, his ocean blue eyes instantly making him nervous. Looking away he greeted him.

"Brother Smith, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, no need to be formal in private Levi. I've told you many times, you can call me by my first name." "Ah yes, um sorry." Levi sheepishly pulled his short black hair back behind his ears. He could feel the heat on his face and wished it would stop. "What, um, can I do for you... Erwin..?" Looking up, he could see Erwin smiling warmly at him.

"I was hoping we might spend the evening together. I've been eager to talk with you about a few things and would love your input on a few texts. Would you like to join me?"

Levi hesitated but then realized there was nothing odd about this request. Gathering and going over the lords' works was normal. Why did it give him such butterfly's? Why did it make him speechless? Nothing was happening, nothing wrong. This wasn't wrong. " Of course. I don't have much to do this evening. I'll join you". The sentence seemed to make him breathless. But Erwin's smile never faded. If he noticed Levi's shy act, he didn't seem to mind.

"Good. I'll see you in the evening then. Let's do our best today." Erwin made the sign of blessing and bowed as he left, Levi doing the same.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The evening came quickly, and Levi felt even more like a nervous mess than before. It was only Erwin who made him feel this way. None of the other saints put him on edge this bad. Levi said a saints prayer and went to Erwin's room, gently knocking on the door. When Erwin opened the door and greeted him, Levi felt as though he could run away in a panic, but he walked in and sat at the small table in the room. Erwin offered him some black tea and they discussed many topics until the evening turned into night. Their talks all seemed to be going well, but then Levi noticed something odd on the bookshelf.

"May I ask, what is that book?" Pointing at a thick red novel bound in leather.

" Oh, this old thing? " Erwin got up and pulled it off the shelf. " I've had this for as long as I can remember. You can say I'm a bit of a collector. Would you like to read it? "

Setting the book down on the table in front of Levi, he immediately realized what it was. "This... this is a spell-book..." Levi said almost whispering.

"Ah yes. I suppose one could call it that."

"Why... do you have something like this? It's forbidden to read such things..." Levi did not look up. He stared wide-eyed at the red book, decorated in blood jewels and in writing Levi didn't recognize.

He could hear Erwin let out a small chuckle. " Forbidden you say?" Feeling Erwin walk close to him again, more books were placed in front of Levi. Leather books bound in yellow and blue, and black leather. All tomes in other languages and images Levi couldn't understand. " Why does knowledge have to be forbidden? How can a saint know what to stay away from if he isn't aware of what that 'thing' is?"

Levi could feel an uneasiness settling in, but it wasn't discomforting? He couldn't explain it. He wanted to leave like he had been tough, but the curiosity he had in his youth came rushing threw him, begging him to touch the fruit in front of him. His thoughts were scrambled as he sought for an answer, only for his mind to go blank when he felt Erwin's touch on his chin, pulling gaze back to those blue eyes. Levi suddenly felt a desire to do something sinful. He stopped himself leaning forward-- His eyes widened as he pulled away from Erwin and gasped.

" I'm sorry! I think it's gotten late and I ah.. I need to sleep. I won't tell anyone what you have here but I um... "

Erwin, using both hands now gently touched Levis' face as it flushed red. " Oh? You don't seem tired. In fact, you seem to want something else internally. You can have it, you know."

Levi held his breath and looked at Erwin confused and saw something else he couldn't comprehend. The soft face that always caught Levis attention had a smile he didn't recognize. He could feel nails on him suddenly, against his face. The room seemed to darken as Erwin stared deep into his eyes.

"I know what you desire." Leaning forward, Erwin whispered in Levi's ear, "I can smell it on you." Placing a kiss on his earlobe, making Levi jump-

"No! I cant.. this is wrong! we cant! we shouldn't- "

"Shouldn't? Why not? "

"Because it's not right!"

"But you've already thought it. you've wanted me for a long time. did you think id never notice? " as Erwin pulled back Levi took notice of his new attributes. two large pale horns atop his forehead, his eyes, deep and dark, with long canines as he spoke.

Levi was paralyzed by the sight. he was delusional. he had to be. this wasn't real. it couldn't be. Erwin caressed his chin once more and held his bottom lip with his thumb.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me those sinful thoughts? if I ask you to confess, will you?" Levis blood was boiling. he should be afraid. he should be screaming for help. he should be on his knees praying for forgiveness. and yet, in the presence of a demon he once thought to be a holy man, he didn't feel an ounce of fear.

"I want you to confess." Levi tried to speak but there was a lump in his throat.

"Confess, Levi. I won't ask again." Levi tried to speak once more, but he felt as though he was melting.

"Fine. It looks like i'll have to force it out."

chapter end~~~   UNTIL THE NEXT ONE

[parkrstark]

long sermon

Based off this song (x)

“Peter,” Ned hissed under his breath, “if you shake your leg anymore, it’s going to fall off. Or you’re gonna put a hole in the floor.”

Peter would stop it if he could, but it was like his leg had a life of its own as it bounced anxiously. He used his hand to press down on his knee until it stopped moving. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“As soon as the lovebirds are finished, we’ll continue.”

Ned and Peter both whipped their heads to stare at Michelle. She was sitting at the head of the table, acting as Decathlon president. She never looked happy, but now she looked more displeased than usual.

“We weren’t--.”

Flash’s obnoxious laughter interrupted Peter. “Hey, Penis, can’t keep yours in your pants long enough to pay attention?”

Peter felt his face burn red as the rest of the team members giggled at Flash’s teasing. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Well, you weren’t paying attention either. And if we’re going to beat Brooklyn in next week’s regional competition, we all need to be paying attention.” She raised her eyebrows, daring him to argue. He didn’t want to.

“Right. Sorry.”

Michelle gave him one last look before turning back to her book, reading out challenge questions. The minute he looked up at the clock on the wall, anything she was saying was white noise.

Just another hour. He could last.

--

“Mr. Stark, are you even paying attention?”

Tony looked up from the phone in his hand, hidden underneath the table and plastered on his best bullshit smile. “Sure am, sweetie.”

Pepper kicked his ankle under the table so hard he winced. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was glaring a strong set of daggers at him.

The man across from him pursed his lips at the nickname but didn’t argue. After all, this was the board of directors for Tony’s companies. He was in charge of the thing. If he was getting a little distracted during the meeting, who was anyone to stop him?

“We were going over this year’s budget for the R&D Department.”

“Uh huh. Sure were,” Tony agreed even though he had no idea what the hell anyone had talked about today.

The man hesitated. “We were wondering if you had any input.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Tony said, hoping that was satisfying enough. The groan from Pepper told him he wasn’t.

She leaned forward, using her best apologetic, sorry my fiance is a dumbass voice, “Why don’t you repeat the numbers you had for us?”

The man nodded and started reading off lots of numbers. Tony had to stop himself from rolling eyes. He pulled his phone back out and quickly typed out a message: i will pay for u college education if u fake a life-threatening emergency right now

He double checked that it was on vibrate before pressing it against his thigh and looking back up to the meeting going on. He glanced at Pepper and saw her already staring back with a glare. He gave her a cheeky smile.

His phone vibrated.

He waited a few seconds before casting his eyes down with moving his head to read the response: ur already paying for college.

Tony’s lip quirked up in a grin. So where’s the emergency? U need iron man asap

Immediately, the typing bubble popped up for a few seconds. 45 minutes, drama queen. Then there were two messages following it before Tony could respond. Now hush and I’m trying to learn.

Tony rolled his eyes, ready to type out a response when the clearing of a throat caught his attention. He turned to look at Pepper and she didn’t look happy as she held out her hand. Tony let his shoulders stop as he typed out one last message: nevermind. Busted by the warden.

He handed Pepper the phone and turned his attention back to the meeting.

These next 45 minutes were going to last a lifetime.

--

“You know the rules, Parker.”

Peter’s head snapped up and he immediately tried to shove his phone under his thigh. “I was just texting Aunt May,” he said, hoping Michelle didn’t push it.

“Whatever, loser. Tell her you’ll be free at 4:30. We’re busy.”

Peter went to send a message back, yelling at Tony for getting him in trouble, but his last received message and laughed. Karma.

Once he settled that, Michelle said, “6 noble gases. Go.”

“Helium, Neon, Argon, Krypton, Xenon, and Radon,” Peter answered easily.

“Oh, come on,” Flash whined. “Give him a hard one. My cousin could answer that and he still shits his pants.”

“I fail to see the correlation,” Michelle said. “Seeing as you do the same thing and couldn’t tell the difference between a noble gas and the gas that comes out of your ass when you do.”

Peter covered his mouth as he laughed along with the rest of the team.

“Fuck off, you’re all assholes.”

“Can we please get back to the questions?” Betty asked though she was trying to fight a smile. \

“Flash, you’re such a smart-ass, What is the difference between centripetal acceleration and centrifugal force?”

Peter was staring at the hand tick by agonizingly slow before Michelle even finished asking the question.

--

“Yes, any time. Of course,” Tony said after he finally shook the hand of the last person in the room. He leg was bouncing in impatience. It already ran 7 minutes past and now everyone wanted to have another conversation with him afterward?

Once it was just him and Pepper, he couldn’t even leave before she grabbed him by the arm. “You need to be more professional.”

He groaned, trying to get out of the room. “Oh, come on, Pep. I am.”

“Being Tony Stark does not give you permission to sleep through your meeting like you’re in high school again.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

She narrowed her eyes, daring him to continue. He didn’t want to.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Pay attention next time. Got it. Can I go now, teach?”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?”

“Sure do.”

Sighing, she said, “Fine. Give me a kiss and then you’re free.”

He hurried forward t press a kiss against her lips before he was hurrying out of that room. He checked his watch. It was almost close to 5. Shit.

“FRIDAY is the food on its way?”

“Yes, boss.”

“TV on? Movie queued?”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony smiled, pulling off his tie as he hurried to his personal floor in the tower. “We’re running a bit behind schedule, but we’ve got this.”

Tradition was tradition and he had to keep it.

--

“Can’t you go any faster?” Peter asked, leaning back against the passenger seat.

“Kid, you’re literally sitting right next to me with the same view. Do you see that traffic? I’m going as fast as I can,” Happy said, not taking his eyes off the road.

Peter leaned his head against the window, groaning as the shine shined down on him. “It’s almost 5!”

“Maybe if you didn’t take a year and a day to leave after practice, I wouldn’t have gotten stuck.”

“I had to find my backpack.”

“Oh?”

“Flash hid it in the library and I had to find it,” Peter explained with a sigh. It had taken him almost 20 minutes. And now he was running late.

Happy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel just a bit more. “And why can’t I go inside to pick you up next time?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Ever since the Vulture incident, Happy had grown pretty protective over him. “Because I don’t need you fighting my battles. It’s fine.”

Happy looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t.

“And don’t tell Mr. Stark, please. He’ll get all upset and I’ll get the bully speech again.”  

“He only worries, kid. We all do.”

Peter sighed. “Just...not today. Please? I’m not hurt. No wounds, physically or emotionally. Nothing to tattle on.”

Happy groaned. “Fine. But you gotta start standing up for yourself, Peter. You’re not some dick’s punching bag.”

Peter closed his eyes as Happy continued on about why Peter couldn’t let himself be pushed around. He’d rather get the Bully speech now than later with Tony. They had some time to kill in traffic anyway.

--  

The clock struck 5:12 just as Tony was jumping over the couch. The food was all set up on the table, he had his sweats and a t-shirt on, and the movie was waiting. All he need was--

“Hey, Mr. Stark! Sorry, I’m late! Traffic was a bitch!” Peter said, out of breath as he hurried out of the elevator.

“Language!” Tony said with a smile.

Peter launched onto the couch just as Tony had done seconds earlier. His shoes were already kicked off and he was dressed in his comfy Friday clothes: gym sweats and Tony’s MIT sweatshirt.

He fell against the couch, tucking into his normal spot next to Tony where he could lean close and Tony could wrap an arm around him. “Ready for the weekend to start, kiddo?”

“Never thought I’d make it,” he said, already resting his head on his shoulder.

“Well, we made it, bud.”

“And we’re not moving until Sunday night. So I hope you've got a good list of movies planned. And nowhere else to be”

Tony grinned, ruffling his hair. “Can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Yay, your asks are open! Something I've been constantly wondering about is; what would happen if the Papas and the Cardinal were into a member of the church and about to ask them out/make their feelings known-only to find out that their love is already in a relationship, with one of their own ghouls. :D :D I love ghouls and I live for drama, so. XD (Also, please include which ghoul it was, if you can! if not I understand, no pressure)

Oooooh, drama llama! I’m here for it fam! 

Papa Nihil: Papa Nihil had considered asking for your companionship for a while now. You were a dutiful sibling of sin, and one that was very pleasing to the eyes and senses. He had found excuses to bring you closer, what with him being in the higher clergy and everything. Nihil was ready to have you inducted into his harem when the news was broken to him. Funnily enough, it was in the most indirect way possible. 

Nihil had overheard Copia explaining away some damages to Sister Imperator. Apparently, from what he could gather- the ghoul, Ember, had picked another fight. Resulting in many fires and scorched hallways. When Imperator asked why on earth his ghoul was fighting again, Copia sighed and admitted it was over a human sibling of sin. Imperator looked to Nihil and mentioned firmly that there needed to be an amendment of human/ghoul relationships if this behavior keeps up! Copia reluctantly agrees, too afraid to say no or otherwise. It’s not until your name is mentioned that Nihil suddenly can’t breathe. The conversation is dropped as the two scramble to help papa with his oxygen.

But that amendment does go through, putting stricter rules on ghoul and human relationships. You and Em are none the wiser that Nihil had a …. special input for it. You both assume it was cause of Ember’s recent fight, and both accept it. It’s harder in a lot of ways, but you and your boyfriend as willing to get through it. Nihil never admits his feelings, but that petty bit of revenge was sweet for him. Especially when the band ghoul sulks that he’s not allowed to be near you during sermons- banished to the ghoul pews. 

Papa I: Admittedly, the most boring. Papa I doesn’t have feelings for someone often, but even in the face of heart break- he values you too much as a friend to let it wedge between you. Papa had casually confessed his feelings to you, but nodded sadly when you admittedly to seeing Omega. Papa admits that actually makes him happy. He has known Omega for a very long time, and comments how the Ghoul would treat you lovingly always. Even though it’s a sullen thing, Papa asks if it would be alright if you two can maintain your friendship. He asks because he respects you and doesn’t want to make you or your love uncomfortable with his presence. 

Again, he values you still as a close companion and in his inner circle. You know he would never intrude on your and Omega’s relationship, and you still love him very platonically. So of course you say yes, and Papa couldn’t be happier. 

It hurts for a little while, but you and Papa almost seem closer after the fact. Even Omega is not disturbed by it. He’s always had respect for the eldest Emeritus brother, and vice versa. Papa will get over his feelings, but his bond with you as his friend is that much stronger. You all walk away happy and closer than ever! 

Papa II: He’s the pettiest out of all of them. He’s so floored and a bit offended that you could chose Air over him. A mere, lowly ghoul over the amazing and powerful Papa! ESPECIALLY when the lowly band knows NOT to sniff around any person Papa fancies- little traitorous wretch!! 

Air admits to you later that Papa is probably just being a dick to save face. Neither of you find the behavior acceptable, but it makes sense. Air can’t exactly stay away from Papa if called upon, but you can. You go out of your way to AVOID the second Emeritus, and in some ways, he does the same. It’s easier to cast you aside and belittle you in his mind than admit he is hurt. 

The only thing that sucks is he’s able to take it out on Air. Which, thankfully, doesn’t last as long as you both feared. Papa let’s up a tad bit when he finds someone else…. and Air refuses to be broken by it. It’s just a lot of nagging and getting Air to run around and work tirelessly for Papa. But Air does it because he refuses to let Papa win. It just makes your ghoul that more attractive to you! Seeing your boyfriend stick it to the pompous man! 

Your relationship with Papa is never the same, really. But that’s ok. All that matters is that you are happy with your Stoic, amazing ghoul boyfriend. 

Papa III: Had he been a little less self absorbed, he might have known you were taken sooner. And by one of his closest ghouls none the less! It was not a big secret to most that you and Alpha were an item. It got to the point where it was such a given no one really bothered bringing it up anymore. It was common knowledge! Save to Papa, who is late to the party. Admittedly, he’s not the brightest when it comes to certain matters. Not from stupidity, just his habit of being more interested in himself. 

Papa honestly thought you were around so much because you wanted to see him… when in truth, your boyfriend Alpha is just around him all the time. But you caught Papa’s eye. 

The ironic part is, Alpha himself had to break the news to Papa. Papa had been going ON and ON about how he found someone he wanted to spend an actual relationship with… and dropped your name. Alpha had to inform Papa that you were actually HIS s/o, and NO- he;s not joking. It takes a little back and forth to finally convince Papa that Alpha is being serious, and this isn’t their typical locker room banter. It’s so heated even Water steps in to tell Papa to back off. Papa accepts it and begrudgingly apologizes to Alpha, after much convincing from Omega to do so. 

Papa’s pride and ego is hurt a bit, but he can get over it. He’s Papa after all, how hard can it be to find someone just as amazing as you? The only thing that sucks in the after math is rumors that your relationship had something to do with Alpha leaving shortly after. The Papa and Alpha fought over you, and other sorts of nasty rumors…. ouch. 

Cardinal Copia: You would think it was Papa II’s pride who was hurt the most… but it was really Copia who took rejection the hardest. He had fancied you even before his most recent promotion. But he wanted to make his move when he was at his peak. Back from his tour, swimming in fans and siblings of sin alike. How surprised were you gonna be when Copia would declare his feelings for YOU? Out of everyone wanting a piece of the soon to be new Papa, Copia wanted you!

He had everything planned down to a T. A bundle of your favorite flowers, his best suit on, and the chance to have you alone. You were so taken about to the point of speechlessness when he confessed his long term feelings. Hell, it would have been a perfect dream! He was on his knee, holding your hand gently, his other hand over his heart. Looking deep into your eyes as he admits he always had feelings for you. It’s too bad that loving, hopeful look would be replaced by his face falling. And boy, did he look like he was about to cry when you mentioned you were already seeing someone.

You and Aether had been a couple since he was still performing with Papa III. Save it was on the DL for years. Nothing wrong with it, you two were just very private. And Copia, admittedly, never looked deeply into his ghoul’s affairs if it didn’t suit some purpose. You feel super guilty as the man, now sporting a cold poker face, stands up. You tell him how much that meant to you, but hope you two could be friends. He shakily agrees and apologizes for not knowing. For the most part, that is the end of it.

You and Aether are still happy, and Copia keeps his distance from you both. You notice Copia doesn’t go out of his way to talk to you as much, nor Aether. But he keeps things very polite, friendly, and professional. You can see a look of sadness in his eyes, especially when you aren’t as close as you used to be.