#historic church for conversion

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1250 church in Rishangles, Suffolk, UK is one of the most beautiful I've seen. (However, I wouldn't want to drive down this road and walk past the cemetery in the night.) 4bds. £750K / $941,099.25

According to the floorplan, the glass structure alongside the tower is a staircase, but I don't see any stairs.

These walls are the original ancient architecture.

The ancient church was restored in the Victorian era, and this beautiful wood work looks Victorian.

Isn't this a lovely fireplace with a mezzanine above?

Here's a view from above.

The restored window is lovely.

Behind this chair, in the corner, there's a very narrow stairway.

Isn't the kitchen cute? I love the shape of the cabinets and that's an AGA stove, too.

This is such a wonderfully vintage kitchen.

Nice church door.

This looks like a bedroom and whomever took the photos didn't do such a great job.

There's a different railing up here.

This bedroom has steps to a tub that's actually set into the stairs.

This bath looks like it has a Japanese soak tub.

These photos are terrible.

I don't even know if these are the same stairs.

So, here's another photo of a landing.

I don't know, this looks like a reflection from the stairs alongside the tower.

Alongside the church there's a patio.

Plus a very nice yard.

https://inigo.com/sales-list/the-old-church

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Hamilton: My mom is dead. Lafayette: My mom is dead too! Hamilton: [Gasp] Both: TWINSIES!!! Burr: [has a what the heck look on his face] Laurens: Don't say anything. Lafayette: I wanna die- Hamilton: Me too buddy. Lafayette: Lafayette:... Lafayette: You didn't let me finish. Lafayette: I wanna die at old age, surrounded by family. Lafayette: You need to take John's offer about therapy.

[whetstonefires]

I was . . . deeply disturbed by the art of Luce you reblogged. I understand having issues with the Catholic church; I'm not Catholic and have a long list of disagreements with them myself. But I don't think artwork of a little girl (even a fictional one) dying brutally is going to convince Catholics that they're wrong about anything. I don't think it's going to help anyone. For my part, it mostly made me feel sick and sad.

in isolation i wouldn't like it much either on those grounds, but as you could see in the post it was a reworking of an existing notable work on the subject of 'missionary getting eaten by wild animals,' and thus very clearly part of an ongoing artistic dialogue about colonialism.

so yeah this one is in the category of 'art that's not for you' and definitely not about convincing catholics of anything.

this one is 'making fun of catholic church for attempting to use a cutesy avatar to sanitize their historical atrocities.' different conversation.

[cuntylouis]

Haven't seen many people talk about it but the stuff around sexuality in this episode was so fucked up. The entire premise of the trial is the racist victim blaming narrative where Louis was a lustful predator preying on Lestat. Lestat relentlessly calling Louis to come to him is flipped around so that Louis was saying with his every action 'come to me', and when he denies it he's told he still must've done it at least unconsciously and caused Lestat to become obsessed with him. Louis' attractiveness and mere existence is seen as manipulative and seductive, and it's his fault when someone wants him, literally 'she was asking for it'. Louis and Lestat's relationship being a traditional marriage is emphasized, with Louis agreeing to Lestat's offer of companionship in church at the altar 'with a kiss of acceptance' - and thus agreeing to everything that marriage has historically encompassed for a woman, including obedience and constant sexual availability. It's emphasized that Louis not giving Lestat enough affection and not 'sharing his body' with him anymore is what directly caused the cheating and later domestice violence - with an implication that it was justified since Louis didn't fulfill his marital duties, and the audience agrees. Lestat talking about seven years of 'compromise and denial' and Santiago saying that Lestat was 'teased until he toppled' has sexual undertones too i.e. Louis withholding sex from Lestat is what caused him to lose control.

Lestat skips over the part where he bites and forcibly drinks from Louis, maybe because he's particularly ashamed of it, but Santiago saying 'to us monters, what's a bite between paramours' is a clear reference to it. When you consider that drinking from other vampire against their will is seen as akin to sexual assault among vampires, they're essentially joking about marital rape. Lestat says he's 'burdened with his maker's temper', when Magnus assaulted him and in the books Lestat calls it rape. In 2.05 Daniel said that he could 'be on his knees in a second' if Armand lets him go and in this episode Louis literally gets on his knees for Lestat begging that 'he'll do anything, be anything' if Lestat turns Claudia. I don't think either Louis or Lestat was thinking of any sexual meaning in that moment, but it's kind of hard to avoid that implication when Louis was suffering of low libido and Lestat was already very sexually frustrated with their relationship at that point. Like everything in the show is recontextualized when you know that Louis promised Lestat that he'd never leave him, and do everything he wants, and be happy if Lestat just saved Claudia. And he never left, not in those seven years, not when Claudia tried to leave in ep6, not even after ep5, even though he kicks Lestat out he still doesn't leave New Orleans or say that their relationship is over. That dissociative sex scene in ep6 where Louis pretends that everything is fine while having a full telepathic conversation with Claudia about how he's not going to leave is even more unsettling now

[hyewka]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — masterlist page! 𑁯 

☆ RECENTS! ⌦

☆ NOTE! ⌦ pieces of work are ordered by most to least recent for each member.

🍏 = personal fave, 🍎 = old fic, 🌟 = popular

⤷ ꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 ꒱

choi yeonjun. ๑ 6.8k

in which getting your male friend prettied up for a party goes weirdly left.

(🌟 ) fetish! ft beomgyu ๑ 4.9k

when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

( 🍎 ) after party ๑ 2.7k (community labeled)

you didn’t know taking the virginity of the cruel rich asshole could feel so empowering. (ft. beomgyu)

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

fwb yeonjun’s jealous

giving yeonjun head

yeonjun choker thoughts

sitting on yeonjuns face

( 🍏 ) (sort of) fucking annoying neighbour yeonjun (community labelled)

( 🍎 ) perv bestfriend yeonjun thought (community labelled)

⤷ ꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 ꒱

priorities, you perv ๑ 2.6k

a blind date? oh thats immediately pushed aside just for the addictive high you get off messing with your roommate, who seems to be more pouty than usual tonight for whatever reason.

( 🌟 ) please, noona ๑ 4.9k (community labelled)

messing with your brother’s best friend who just can’t keep his eyes off your tits.

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

overstim sub soobin

yandere sub soobin

bunny hybrid soobin

sub ceo soobin

church boy soobin thought

( 🍏 ) barely giving fwb soobin head (community labelled)

perv!soobin thought

bunny!soobin x fox!reader (community labelled)

⤷ ꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 ꒱

buddy system

wanting to try a new sexual route with your boyfriend but not knowing how to approach the situation drives you to beomgyu—your best friend since the dawn of time, under the rule of what you call a buddy system.

( 🌟 ) what a loser! ๑ 2.7k

hearing rumours of your sex life travel around your campus for the first time has you standing in front of the very person that you’re convinced is responsible. your secret fuck buddy.

fetish ft. yeonjun ๑ 4.9k

when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

( 🍏 ) while i fuck you straight ๑ 5.1k (CL)

in which you let your best friend fuck you into oblivion in the name of forgetting about your ex.

( 🌟 ) love me ๑ 1.8k

in which your best friend so graciously offers to satisfy your very stale sex life.

( 🌟 ) ( 🍏 ) boyfriend ๑ 4.3k

choi beomgyu is a name that means different things to different people. to you, he's the pest that you can't quite get rid of. he's always around to bother you, embarrass you, all of the above. unfortunately his hatred for you ends up ruining your chances with his best friend, choi soobin. and now all the years of effort you've spent tolerating him dissipates; you've had enough of his bitchy attitude.

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

vampire

trying to get your attention

straddling beomgyu while he’s injured

bratty kitty hybrid beomgyu

stepbro!beomgyu

ceo!beomgyu

beomgyu fucking you on the floor

( 🍏 ) sub!gyu and aphrodisiacs

switch bear gyu

sub!gyu sitting on your lap

choking sub!gyu

puppy hybrid beomgyu

trainee!beomgyu x idol!reader

hickeys w/ sub beomgyu (community labelled)

jerking off sub!beomgyu in a skirt

sub!beomgyu fucking you bcs hes jealous

sub!beomgyu eating you out while you game

( 🌟 ) perv bestfriend!gyu thought

( 🍎 ) yandere bestfriend!beomgyu thought

( 🍎 ) sub!puppy hybrid thought

⤷ ꒰ 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 ꒱

. . . (empty)

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

sub!tyun in car with vibrator

(🌟) sub!tyun, noona!reader

dom!tyun thoughts

⤷ ꒰ 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈 ꒱

. . . (empty)

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

pervert kai + caught panty stealing

pocket pussy + best friend kai

( 🍏 ) sub!kai in a tent

perv!hyuka thought (community labelled)

➪ ꒰ more than one member ꒱

( 🌟 ) fetish! - cyj, cbg ๑ 4.9k

when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

— unedited drabbles/thoughts:

yandere!txt

riding tyun’s abs + face sitting with hyuka

( 🌟 ) favorite places txt likes to suck hickeys

( 🍏 ) unconventional sex (community labelled)

© HYEWKA 2024 . if a post is community labelled you will not be able to see said post if you don’t change your settings, click here to learn how to change them. reblogging helps circulate my work and get it picked up by tumblr's algorithm, the kind gesture is always appreciated

[shitsndgiggs]

A DAY IN REGENSBURG - KENAN YILDIZ

A day walking around the streets of Regensburg, with Kenan

Kenan Yildiz x half turkish, half danish! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The cobblestone streets of Regensburg felt like a step back in time, with their charming architecture.

Kenan and I walked hand in hand, the summer sun casting a warm glow over the historic town. The day was perfect.

"So, Kenan," I started, swinging our joined hands slightly as we walked, "what’s your favorite childhood memory from growing up here?"

Kenan grinned, his eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "Oh, that’s a tough one, mein schatz. But I think it has to be playing football in the park with my friends. We used to pretend we were playing in the World Cup."

I laughed. "I can totally see that. Were you always the star player?"

"Of course," he said with a mock-serious expression. "I was always the star, even if we were just kids with big dreams."

"Well, look at you now, Herr Fußballstar," I teased, nudging him playfully. "Living the dream."

He chuckled, pulling me closer as we walked. "And what about you? Any favorite memories from Denmark?”

"I have so many," I said, thinking back. "But one of my favorites is visiting my grandparents every weekend. The whole family would gather, and we’d have these huge feasts. The food, the laughter, it was just perfect."

"Sounds amazing," Kenan said, his tone softening. "Family is everything, isn’t it?"

We continued our stroll, pausing occasionally for Kenan to take pictures with fans who recognized him. "Guten Tag! Of course, happy to take a photo," he would say, his smile never fading. I watched him interact, feeling proud of how gracious he was with everyone.

A group of teenagers approached, shyly asking for autographs. Kenan signed their shirts and took selfies with them, making sure everyone was happy. "You’re so good with your fans," I commented as we continued walking.

Kenan shrugged modestly. "They’re the best. And seeing them happy makes it all worth it."

As we reached the town square, the St. Peter's Church loomed majestically in the distance. Kenan looked at me, his expression softening. "You know, I think you fit in here perfectly. Like you were meant to be part of my world."

I smiled, feeling warmth spread through me. "Maybe it’s because I’m half-Turkish too. And Denmark isn’t far from Germany, so we’re almost alike in a way."

Kenan nodded, stopping to kiss my hand. "Absolutely. It’s like we were meant to find each other, canım."

We found a cozy bakery and decided to take a break. Kenan ordered in German, showing off his fluency, while I teased him about his accent. "You sound so serious when you speak German," I joked. "Like a stern teacher."

He laughed. "Well, maybe I am. And you, öğrencim, need to behave."

I stuck my tongue out at him playfully. "You wish."

As we enjoyed our treats, an elderly couple at the next table struck up a conversation with us, commenting on how lovely we looked together. "Siz çok güzel bir çiftsiniz," the woman said, smiling kindly.

"Teşekkürler," Kenan replied, nodding appreciatively.

We continued our exploration, visiting the Stone Bridge and marveling at the views of the Danube River. Kenan pointed out his favorite spots from his childhood, sharing stories that made me laugh and feel closer to him.

"Do you think we’ll come back here often?" I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked.

"I hope so," Kenan said, his voice filled with warmth. "I want to share all my favorite places with you."

As the day drew to a close, we found ourselves back at the town square, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. Kenan pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. "Thank you for spending the day with me here. It means a lot."

"Jeg elsker dig," I whispered,"Thank you for sharing this with me."

"Ben de seni seviyorum," he replied softly, leaning down to kiss me. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us, lost in a moment of pure happiness.

As we walked back hand in hand, the lights of Regensburg twinkling around us, I knew that this day, filled with playful banter, shared memories, and tender moments, was one I would cherish forever.

[cledubs]

hey guys guess who’s made a new ghost au. any fantasy high enjoyers in the chat (the tumblr)

anyways basic info for said au (which is a fun little thing that was spawned from conversations me and my bsfs @scalpho and @nenekkasa had)

takes place in the modern world in england ish, no magic except for ghosts. bad kids centric because . yeah it’s a fantasy high au so. historical but also we’re not trying to be perfectly historically accurate, we’re just having some fun. we just love some ghosts

gorgug is a guy who’s going to a local college (around 20 yrs old) and his parents have recently bought the creepy abandoned manor because they decided to do a little fixer-upper project on it

while living in the house, our guy gorgug befriends the ghosts of some people who had died on this property!

fabian aramais seacaster: noble from the mid-late 1600s. died in a duel (technically yes but he’s lying a bit about the specifics) in his home. family constructed the manor. early 20s

kristen applebees: townfolk from the mid 1600s. burnt at the stake under the accusation of witchcraft and betraying the church of helio. early 20s

adaine abernant: died of a sudden unknown illness soon after blatantly refusing her family’s expectations of her in the late 1800s. the abernant family had purchased the manor after the seacasters died out. late teens/early 20s

riz gukgak: shot and killed in a gunfight during a detective mission in the 1950s. manor was involved in the case he was investigating. mid 20s

figueroth “fig” faeth: famous rockstar who got too carried away in the addiction that comes with fame. partied in the now-abandoned manor. mid-late 20s.

and now gorgug has to deal with five ghosts that only he can see while also trying to just live his daily life

(if you’re interested in this au/have questions about it you can check the tag for more information! :3 )

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Other fanfic idea : a girl goes to the church where king Baldwin is buried and she somehow finds something that takes her immediately to medieval Jerusalem , you make the rest ❤️

♡ A Ripple In Time - King Baldwin x Time Travler Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon, thank you for the request. I hope you like this and its what you had in mind! Sorry for the abrupt ending, I just didn't want to make this really long and boring haha. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

“Hey, young lady!  keep up with the group! We don't want you getting left behind” the tour guide called out. Y/n looked up at her group who had already started moving away from where she stood. ‘“Sorry sir” she called out, catching up to them as they began moving into the church.

“Alright everyone listen up!” the tour guide spoke as they came to a stop. “This church is not only an ancient monument, but it's also the final resting place of King Baldwin the fourth of Jerusalem. This man is a well renowned historical figure, not just for being a ruler, but also for his strength in continuing to win many battles, despite being diagnosed with leprosy at the young age of nine”. The tour guide explained. “Just over there, is his tomb. Now, tours aren't allowed in there, workers only. So we will keep moving on to one more spot, then grab some lunch if you guys are hungry” he continued.

Y/n was displeased by this. She needed to enter that room. That was the only reason she took this stupid college ancient history class in the first place. A full two years of begrudgingly passing exams and engaging in conversations with the idiots who also took the class, just for this?

She needed to enter into that room.

Y/n was a physics student. She was gifted with intelligence from a young age and had found her passion in the language of the universe. Mathematics. She was determined to find out all there was to know about its secrets. Including time travel.

She knew about the layers of the atmosphere and how there were ten that humans know of. The third layer was the three dimensional reality that humans exist in. She knew that anyone with access to the fourth dimension, had access to the fifth dimension. And if you had access to the fifth dimension, you could travel through time. Even bend it to your will if you wished.

After a major scientific breakthrough earlier in the year upon the discovery of the fourth dimension and the creation of a device that pressed atoms together so hard that it created a tear in time itself, she was ready.

She had not told anybody about this and attended the college class trip to Jerusalem, thinking it was a perfect opportunity for a proper test run. She had tested the machine before already, sending herself back only a few minutes then documenting the results. So she knew this would work, but she needed privacy and the tomb was the perfect place. The machine could only take her back in time to the place the machine was located. So if she wanted to see some action, she would need to be in a place that saw a lot of action. And 11th century Jerusalem seemed like a perfect place and time.

--------------- 

She waited around until everybody had moved off, hoping that the tour guide would not notice her absence again. Thankfully, he didn't. Her lack of friends in that class greatly helped her slip away unnoticed also.

She looked around to ensure she was alone before trying the door to the tomb. It was unlocked. She opened it just enough to slip through and entered.

The room was cold and dark, aside from some light entering through a stained glass window. Y/n paid no attention to her surroundings, simply removing the device from her bag. If this worked, she would go down in history. She would be the greatest physicist of all time.

She grinned in exitement as she threw her backpack over her shoulder and prepared the device, entering in the date she wished to return to.

She pressed the final button and immediately, the world spun around her. Y/n closed her eyes, feeling reality shift. When she opened her eyes again, she was surrounded by dessert. The church was gone and it was dark. About half a mile infront of her was a large city. A kingdom. It worked. It actually worked. A grin formed on the young woman's face. She had done it.

Quickly reaching into her bag, she removed some clothing. Clothing that she had crafted herself to blend into the environment and time period. She removed her clothing, aside from her underwear and bra and slipped on the handmade robes. She put everything, including her backpack, into a large bag that she had also handcrafted to blend in and slipped it over her shoulder. Now she was ready to enter the city.

Y/n could see the kingdom, illuminated by the dull firelight of torches. She knew where she would go first. The castle. She wanted to have a look around, observe the way of life of the locals. That King Baldwin man seemed interesting. Maybe she would get a look at him. But her main priority was collecting as much evidence of this experience as she could without being caught.

It would not be difficult, she knew enough about the mindset and way of life of people from this era, from that class and her own research. So she could blend in well enough.

Her main concern was contracting a disease, but she brought antibiotics as well as hand sanitizer, her own water and food, as well as soap. So as long as she didnt touch much, she figured it would be fine. 

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

As y/n approached the kingdom, she noticed that it was surrounded by a large wall. The gates were shut. Luckily, she had prepared for something exactly like this.

Smiling at her innovative genius, she reached into the large bag and removed a long rope with a thick hook attached. Putting the bag back over her shoulder, she took a few steps back and threw the rope with all her strength. It landed perfectly, gripping the top of the wall. She tugged the rope a few times, ensuring the hook was secure before she began to climb.

Y/n was not a delicate woman. She was in fact quite muscular. Her body had been trained for many years through a rock climbing hobby, which was now proving useful.

She reached the top of the wall and stood up to admire her work. She sat down on top of the high wall and pulled the rope up from the side she just climbed up and moved it to the side of the wall she needed to descend. Once that was in place, she abseiled down the wall with ease.

Upon reaching the bottom, she shook the rope to remove the hook and threw it back into her bag. Now the fun could begin. 

She slowly made her way up to the castle, stopping to avoid royal guards who walked through the city. Eventually, she made it.

The castle was also surrounded by a large wall, so she repeated the process of scaling the wall with the rope and hook. Y/n decided to take a break on top of the wall to compose herself and devise a plan for entering the castle.

She opened her bag and took out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply and exhaling it through her nose, allowing it to warm her up from the inside. The night air was cool and still. Peaceful.

By the time she finished the cigarette, she knew what she wanted to do. She would enter the castle through a window or balcony and explore. The only issue was the royal guards who she knew would be throughout the entire building. If worse came to worse, she had a handgun in her backpack. But she figured she wouldn't need it. She stubbed out the cigarette and made her descent down the wall. 

Y/n walked cautiously around the outside of the palace, using the darkness as an advantage to avoid the guards. Eventually she spotted a balcony. Perfect. Throwing the rope up, it hooked the balcony with ease. There was no wall to assist her climb, so she was forced to climb the rope with no support.

This was no issue for y/n. The years of rock climbing had continued to prove useful. When she reached the balcony, it was even darker without the flaming torches on the outside of the castle lighting her way. The only light was from the dull glow of candle light coming from inside the room the balcony led to and the full moon.

The door was open. Putting the rope back into her bag, she entered to explore. Upon closer inspection, the room appeared to be a bedroom chamber of sorts. It was large and lavish with a desk and a bookshelf. That was when she noticed a large bed, off to the side of where she entered.

Y/n could see a figure, laying underneath the covers. Out of plain curiosity, she approached the bedside of the figure. It appeared to be a man. He lay on his back, with one bandaged hand on his chest and the other laying beside him. He wore white sleep robes and his cheeks and nose were covered with bandages, exposing his forehead and lower face. He had softly curled blonde hair and appeared to be quite young. Maybe twenty. Around her age.

Y/n was taken aback by his beauty. He was gorgeous. His eyes were shut peacefully and his lips were parted a little as he snored softly, chest rising and falling evenly. Clearly in a deep sleep, lucky for her.

It was then she realized. The bandages. The lavish room. The balcony. This had to have been the King Baldwin that the tour guide had spoken of. He was much more handsome than she expected. She noticed on his bedside sat an iron mask, that must have been what he wore during the day. 

Y/n smiled to herself at the sight of the sleeping young man. As much as she didnt want to take her eyes away from him, she needed to continue on. She reached the door and slipped out, leaving the king to his peaceful rest.

She walked down the hallway slowly, stopping the check behind her every now and again. It was a beautiful architecture, with intricate carvings all around. Y/n stopped to remove her camera from the bag to take some photos. She took a few pictures of the hallway and continued moving.

Eventually after one to many close calls, she figured she must be leaving before she was caught.

She made her way back to the king's chambers to exit via the balcony. She slipped through the door and was greeted by a comforting warmth and the young man’s gentle snoring. She gave him one last look before heading for the balcony.

She was just about to remove the rope from her bag when she heard somebody call out a soft “hello?”. Y/n froze in place. Her eyes went wide. “Fuck” she thought, turning around slowly to see the king sitting up in bed, propped up on his elbows, eyes wide. He looked terrified.

Their eyes met each one another. "Why are you here? I will not hesitate to call the guards” Baldwin said, attempting to keep his voice steady, but it still trembled. “I'm not going to hurt you, your highness” y/n replied, putting her hands up in a surrendering motion. “I was just leaving. I have not stolen anything, I am unarmed and I have not harmed anybody. I promise” she said confidently, awaiting his reply, ready to grab the rope and climb down in case he didn't buy it.

“Why are you here then?” he sounded less afraid now, more curious. “You would not believe me if I told you” y/n replied softly. He tilted his head to the side, studying her carefully. It reminded her of a curious dog seeing something new for the first time. “What is your name madame?” he asked after a few seconds.

“My name is y/n. I come from a very far away land” she could have sworn she saw him smile a little. “I am sure I would believe you if you told me why you were here,” he replied. Y/n sighed, picking up her bag and approaching him slowly.

“I come from the future" she said bluntly. "For my research I have returned to this time in Jerusalem to observe the past '' she saw no harm in telling him this, it's not like anybody would believe him. Even by morning, he may think that she was just a dream.

“Is that so? How did you travel to the past then?” y/n smirked at this, ready to show off her device with pride.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the device. Baldwin moved over on the bed, giving her space to sit.

She explained how it worked as simply as she could. He asked plenty of questions, each one with complete interest and curiosity. The two spoke for a long time about the device.

“Y/n you are incredible” he said eventually. The young woman chuckled at his words. She looked up to meet his eyes. “Truely, you are amazing. I would love to see you again. Perhaps another night?” he offered.

“That would be lovely, your majesty,” y/n said with a smile. He returned the smile before moving a bandaged hand to cover a soft yawn. He looked very tired.

“I will leave you to get some rest now” y/n said, standing. “Alright” he replied, sounding somewhat disappointed. “I'll be back tomorrow, swear it” she said with a smirk. “I look forward to it” Baldwin replied, yawing again and laying back down.

“Goodnight your majesty” 

“Goodnight, y/n”

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

As y/n climbed down the rope, she thought about the interaction carefully. Needless to say, she was surprised.

She had thought he would have panicked and called her a witch when she explained the device to him. But no, he was just interested in her work. She decided she would return to the future for the night then return to the past to meet with Baldwin the following night.

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

Y/n made her return to the future and regrouped with her class. She was amazed at the fact that she could spend hours in another century then return as if no time had passed at all. 

That night, when her class retired to their rooms, she returned to the past. Following the same process as last time. Change her clothes. Over the first wall. Dodge the guards. Over the second wall. Dodge the guards. Until she reached the balcony.

She climbed the rope and entered the room to see the young king, just as she found him the night prior. Fast asleep. She walked over to him slowly so as not to startle him.

Y/n kneeled down and rubbed his shoulder softly to wake him. His ocean blue eyes fluttered open to meet hers, a small smile spread across his face.

“Y/n, you returned. I thought you were a pleasant dream” he said sleepily. She smiled at his adorable words. She liked him, that's for sure. He was the only man she had ever met who actually listened to her speak about her work without becoming intimidated by her intelligence and attempting to upstage her. 

They spoke about many things, y/n sitting on the edge of the bed and him leaning against the headboard. Their conversation was pleasant for both of them.

They spoke for hours, until Baldwin grew tired. He layed back down and y/n tucked him in. He felt himself falling for her every minute they spent together. She was the most intelligent woman he had ever met, and her stories about the future were incredible. He enjoyed learning about what was to come for humankind greatly.

They agreed to meet up the following night. And again, and again. This continued this for a month before Baldwin offered the question.

It was late and y/n was about to leave. The young king was very tired and speaking whatever was on his mind seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Y/n. Please. Stay here with me. I want to make you my wife. Your wisdom is encapsulating and you're beautiful. So, beautiful…” his words trailed away as he dozed off, leaving y/n to stand by his bedside, completely lost for words and overcome by happiness.

A large smile crossed her face. She bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yes. I will stay in your time and be your wife Baldwin” she whispered softly to the sleeping man.

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

So, they were wed. And the origins of the new queen remained nothing but a secret shared between husband and wife.

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au pt 4

To the person that asked for jealous Sukuna, I’m here to deliver(hopefully you like it, it's not super overt jealousy)! I had to take liberties on regency era fashion cause i’ll be damned if i put sukuna in a fucking nightgown lmao

Once again, bold text indicates a different language being spoken

part one --- part two --- part three

It was criminal that Sukuna made you get up before sunrise to begin your journey to the countryside but he was insistent on getting there at a ‘reasonable hour’. Getting dressed in a sleepy haze, you nibbled on breakfast as Sukuna got everything ready and collected any documents he wanted to work on.

You were much too tired to even think to complain about being in the same carriage as him, something that underneath the fog gave you a slight nervous edge. Despite the conversation the day before you weren’t sure if you were ready for this level of intimacy with him. But there wasn’t much choice to be had and away you went, not caring to stifle a yawn as you rode away from the chateau.

“Now Princess, I’ve had the valet draw us up an itinerary.” Sukuna started, fluffing out some papers and handing you one. “We are to visit a vineyard, perhaps make a public appearance at the local clinic.”

“Yes.” Nodding along, you let your head rest on the back of the carriage. The road wasn’t terribly bumpy, allowing you to relax as Sukuna kept speaking. He hadn’t even looked up to see if you were listening, just droning on about something you couldn’t find it in you to care about.

It felt like just a moment had passed between you closing your eyes and feeling the carriage jostle to the side with a great force, the footmen calling out to steady the horses as the road was in a bad condition. Blinking rapidly as your senses came back to you, there was the sudden realization that Sukuna was sat next to you. Feeling a pressure on your cheek, you noticed your head had tilted to lay on his shoulder and although your neck was growing sore you found it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable to be this close to him.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He commented upon your rousing, noticing the way your eyes moved rapidly. He helped you sit up and seemed unfazed by the fact that your head had been resting so gently on his shoulder, unfazed except for the blush painting his cheeks. “We’re almost there.”

“My apologies, Your Highness.” Clearing your throat, you inched away from him. It must have been a burden for him to move for you and that thought had you looking down at your hands adorned with a pair of lacy gloves.

“No need.” Sukuna also cleared his throat, grabbing the papers that were left on his other side. The rest of the ride was quiet with the two of you sitting so close yet not looking at one another. Looking out the window, you noticed you were indeed in the countryside, passing by expansive rolling hills covered in wildflowers and tall grass, some cultivated into farming and others holding livestock.

Getting to the center of town, you were happy to see it was full of life and not as small as you assumed it would be. Sure, it wasn’t as lively and built up as the city you grew up in but it was a far cry from the sticks and mud you thought you’d encounter.

Being helped out of the carriage by Sukuna, you were greeted by the town's mayor who insisted on gifting you a bottle of wine as a present for your marriage. He spoke fast, almost too fast for the royal interpreter to translate for Sukuna; and his barely there grasp of the local language was frustrating him, it was written on his face.

You toured the town for much longer than you thought you would, seeing every historical landmark and every church ever built. There were several instances during the tour that you or Sukuna had to nudge the other to stay awake as the mayor droned on and on. By the time the tour was over it was evening and you had to retire to the inn that was reserved for you.

“The best inn in the whole country, Your Highness!” The mayor boasted, leading the two of you inside and directly to your bedroom.

“T-there’s only one bed!” You exclaimed, causing the mayor to laugh and wave you off.

“Still a blushing bride, I see!” Bowing to the both of you, he excused himself and left the two of you alone to enter.

“What’d he say to you?” Sukuna mumbled, rustling in a chest of drawers for something.

“I mentioned that there appears to only be one bed and…and he said I was still a blushing bride.” Repeating the statement to Sukuna made your cheeks burn and having him laugh made it even worse. “I just assumed-”

“That we would have separate rooms?” Cutting you off, Sukuna turned to face you and you could finally see what he had been digging around for: a silver flask. “We may do that in the privacy of our own home but in public it is best not to arouse suspicion about the state of our marriage. You understand, correct?” He quirked a brow as he titled his back and took a drink.

“Yes, of course I understand. I just…” Trailing off, you looked around the room again. It was very spacious, with a chess table off to one side and a simple loveseat in front of a fireplace. There were partitions in the room that you could move to your liking as you dressed which gave you peace of mind.

“While you think about it, I am going to have a servant get us dinner. Is there anything you would like to have?” Sukuna began to walk to the door with his flask still in hand.

“I have no preference.” And with that answer, he was gone. Wringing your hands together, you paced around the room unable to find respite in being alone. What lay ahead of you had your nerves in a thousand different places and there was a doubt in your mind about getting any sleep tonight.

You and Sukuna ate your meal quietly at the small dining table in the room. You couldn’t make eye contact with him for very long and he did not mind your nerves at all. The sound of people moving around downstairs and playing the piano in the parlor made ambient noise as you finished your meals and then moved on to other things: Sukuna, his paperwork and you some needlework.

“Do you wish to bathe tonight, Princess? I am going to have a bath drawn.” Sukuna announced suddenly, breaking you from your trance. Blinking owlishly, you couldn’t find the words so you shook your head. “Alright. I will have a guard stand at the door while I am away.”

With Sukuna gone again, you finally took notice of the time and realized you should also get ready for bed. Calling a ladies maid in, you undressed and got into night clothes, trying to quell the shaking of your hands when she left and you were alone again. Staring at yourself in the full length mirror, you drew your robe tighter hoping to hide the dressing gown underneath. Without the stuffy and constricting layers of your everyday clothes, you were much more comfortable physically, but mentally was another story.

There were a rapid few knocks on the door before it opened and closed swiftly and Sukuna entered, not caring in the slightest about walking around the inn in an unbuttoned white shirt and loose linen pants that hit just below his knees.

“Please cover up!” You gasped, utterly scandalized about the flash of skin you saw before slapping a hand over your eyes. Sukuna barked out a laugh, one that lasted much longer than you’d like.

“You ladies are so prim, aren’t you?” He shook his head, doing as he was told with a large smirk on his face. “Does this suit you, Your Grace?” He teased, doing a small spin when you lifted the hand from your face. He had indeed buttoned up, still more exposed than you’d like but it was better than before.

“Yes it does.” Clearing your throat, you became painfully aware of the fact you were in a nightgown and Sukuna was openly staring at you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you motioned to the bed. “Do you not wish to rest now?”

“Do you?” He countered immediately, taking a few steps toward you and making you fumble backwards.

“I-I do.” Truth be told you were tired, all you wanted to do was lay down and close your eyes. But you had to account for Sukuna and whatever he would try and do.

“Then by all means, lay down, Princess.”

“I-I-” The two of you were caught in a stalemate, neither wanting to move until the other did. Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna was indeed nervous about laying in the same bed as you. He wondered how it would feel, to finally lay with his wife and to possibly smell whatever lotions she had put on while getting ready for bed.

“We can’t stay like this forever.” Sukuna broke the silence, speaking quietly as he licked his lips. The bed was already unmade for the two of you, so all you had to do was climb in as he snuffed out any candles still lit but your feet were glued to your spot as the last candle went out and you were engulfed in darkness with not even the light of the moon to bring you comfort.

“Princess.” Sukuna groaned and you could just barely make out his figure in the dark but you knew he was rolling his eyes at your hesitance. “Lie down. Please.” Tacking on the formality at the end, he waited impatiently for you to move.

“I’m just nervous.” You mumbled, shifting away ever so slightly when you saw him move again.

“Shall I light the candles again? We can stay awake longer if that is what you require.” Worrying your lip and sighing over his words, you rolled your eyes at yourself. This would have to happen eventually, one way or another, you might as well get used to it now.

“Give me a moment.” Walking to the side of the bed, you took your robe off and dived under the covers as fast as you could. Sukuna most likely couldn’t see your actual nightgown but he could see that you had finally laid down.

Sighing to himself, he laid down as well and the two of you didn’t move a muscle. Neither wanting to get too close to the other, not even wanting to breathe too loud for the other to hear. You were both laying on your back staring at the ceiling above, the blanket drawn up to your chin to protect your modesty.

“Goodnight, Princess.” Sukuna dared to whisper, dared even further to shift in the bed and turn his back to you.

“Goodnight.” You whispered back, following suit and turning the other way. You were able to sink into a comfortable position from this and sleep took you sooner than you realized, too soon for you to start worrying something might happen.

Sukuna was the first to rouse from sleep in the morning, the sunlight beginning to bleed through the curtains. Keeping his eyes closed and stretching his body, Sukuna noticed an unfamiliar weight on his bicep. Cracking an eye open, he gasped at seeing your head resting on his arm with your peaceful, sleeping face making his cheeks warm.

“Princess?” He whispered, unsure if he wanted you to wake up or not. When you didn’t stir he didn’t speak again, opting to just watch you sleep and find comfort laying on him. Sukuna had to remind himself to breathe several times as he caught himself holding in for fear of moving too much and disturbing you. Time stood still as he just stared, ignoring the itch in the back of his mind that he needed to start his day and not waste time.

When you finally woke, all slow blinks and delicate breaths, Sukuna had fallen back asleep and now it was your turn to admire him. The slight furrow in his brows was gone, allowing you to see him truly relaxed. This was the first time you were looking at him so up close and you saw that his eyelashes, although still pink, looked almost translucent as the sun filled the room with light. The bruise on his neck from the other night seemed to have settled into its peak coloring, a dark purple mark staining Sukuna’s skin and was sure to hurt if pressed.

Your bodies were still relatively separate, your head resting on his arm the only place you two were touching. If you flexed your arms, stretched out your body just a bit, you would touch Sukuna’s torso and the temptation to do so was strong. His shirt had come undone in the night either by his own doing or as he slept and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. There were a few scars that littered his body, almost all of them old and healed with a few still a soft red. Sukuna had a much more chiseled physique than that of the men in the ton, much more muscle that he obviously obtained through some hard work.

A chuckle broke you out of your trance and you looked up at Sukuna, shocked that he was now awake and looking at you with a light smile on his face.

“That tickles, Princess.” He raised his brows, exhaling a breathy laugh as you both looked down to see your hand had indeed started lightly touching his abdomen.

“Oh my!” Ripping yourself away, you scrambled out of bed and immediately put your robe on, embarrassment rippling through your body. Sukuna made no move to stop you as you began to look through your drawers, trying to decide what you would wear today.

“I quite enjoyed that, you know.” Sukuna spoke up and you could hear him rustling in the bed. “Being so close to my beautiful wife for the first time was lovely.”

“Silence.” You hissed but the words held no bite, evident as you didn’t even turn to face Sukuna when he spoke.

“Admit it Princess, you enjoyed it as well.” His hands came from behind you, caging you in against the armoire you were standing in front of. You could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your head and just barely feel his body around you. The both of you stood there quietly, your heart beating painfully in your chest.

“I-I-” Licking your lips nervously, you gripped the clothing in your hand. “I have no comment on the matter.” It was a mistake to turn around. It was a mistake to turn around and see just how close Sukuna was to you. It was also a mistake to lick your lips again, something Sukuna immediately focused on.

“Just like a lady, so diplomatic.” His voice dropped to a whisper, making a shiver go down your spine. His eyes danced around your entire form, from your eyes to your lips down to the rise and fall of your chest. Shuffling forward just slightly, Sukuna brought a hand down to cover one of yours, running his thumb along your skin.

You held your breath as Sukuna leaned forward, his eyes half closing the closer he got to you. Your own eyes fell shut, unable to fight the urge to follow his lead. His breath fanned across your face and his hand tightened its grip, his nose scraping against your cheek before he planted a kiss right on it.

His lips lingered there for a few beats, just pressed against your face. His breathing was so quiet you feared he would pass out soon but he moved again, sliding back so his nose was behind your ear. He took a breath then, smelling the traces of lotion you’d put on before bed. Once he’d gotten his fill, Sukuna sighed and backed up, sighing again when you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I shall get us breakfast.” Sukuna whispered, not making a move to leave.

“I would like some fruit.” You replied, speaking slowly with a heavy tongue. Sukuna let go of your hand, gradually brushing his fingers up along your arm. Getting to your elbow, Sukuna wrapped his hand around you, squeezing for a moment before dropping it completely.

“Fruit. Right.” Taking a step back, he didn’t break eye contact with you until he opened the door and left, not bothering to change into anything else.

As soon as the door closed it was as if all the air rushed back into the room. Nearly falling to your knees, you gasped and brought your fingers up to your cheek to try and possibly feel the lingering touch his lips left. Calling for your lady’s maid, your body trembled as you prepared for the day. Eating downstairs in the inn's common area, you and Sukuna shared fleeting glances and his knee bumped yours under the table several times.

“We’re going to a vineyard today.” Sukuna announced upon your exit from the inn, stretching his arms above his head before motioning you to get into the carriage.

“Do you expect me to drink wine so early in the day?” It was barely a quarter till ten and you were in no shape to begin drinking.

“We will merely sample, Princess. No need to worry.” He assured you as the carriage began its journey. “The townsfolk prepared a special bottle in our honor, we are to open it on our ten year anniversary.”

“Ten years?” Your brows rose in surprise; the idea of being with Sukuna for that long had never crossed your mind until now, but it would be your reality. The two of you would be together until one of you died, there was no getting around that.

“Try and look happy at the notion.” Sukuna teased, lightly pushing your knee with his own. You responded in kind and nudged him back, both of you sharing a sly smile.

The vineyard was out of the way, up a few large hills and over a river. You passed by a few farms with people diligently working the soil, some standing up to wave at you properly while others kept their heads down, determined to bring in the harvest they had cared for so tenderly.

“What an honor it is!” The vintner was waiting for you as you arrived, dressed in a fresh suit and with a few others waiting behind him.

“The pleasure is ours, thank you.” You replied, curtseying upon your exit from the carriage.

“Thank you.” Sukuna said, his eyes flicking to you as he said it. You’d only heard him speak the language the night he had caught you and Lord Fushiguro together, every other time he used the royal translator.

“Right this way, Your Highness’. I have prepared a special tour for you.” Being led further into the winery, you marveled at the amount of barrels lining the wall, enclosing the space and making you feel tiny in comparison. As the vintner began to explain the history of the region, you heard him mention a familiar name.

“E-excuse me, you said Lord Fushiguro?” You cut off his speech.

“Yes, Your Highness! He is the owner of this vineyard and several others in the area. Do you by chance know him?” He motioned to the barrels which you just now noticed had the Fushiguro name stamped onto them.

“We know of him.” Sukuna said, rolling his eyes at the mention.

“Yes the young Lord is a wonderful man, very passionate about wine and his business! Sadly, he was in a terrible fight a couple days ago otherwise he would have been here to give the tour himself!”

“A fight?” You gasped, feigning innocence.

“Just awful, Your Highness! He said a few thugs cornered him at the town festival as he was leaving!”

“Did he say anything about the thugs?” Sukuna pressed, trying to wait patiently as everything was translated.

“Unfortunately no, Your Grace, he said he didn’t get a good look at any of them. But his injuries were too severe for him to travel here, a true shame.”

“Yes…just awful…” Sukuna trailed off, having to look away to try and stifle the cruel smirk on his face. You wanted to say something, but found no words were coming, letting the tour resume as your mind went back to Lord Fushiguro. He was too injured to make the journey? Was there someone helping him recover or was he all on his own? Could you possibly send him a letter and at least apologize for what happened? Or maybe sneak away and visit him without Sukuna knowing?

“Hey.” He nudged you as you walked through the winery, getting to the wine cellar. “Do not think about him.”

“I’m not.” You countered immediately, shaking your head.

“You are, it is written all over your face.” Sighing shortly, Sukuna flexed his fingers as you descended down the stairs. “It’s vexing me, do not do it any longer.”

“Are you perhaps-”

“Do not dare.” Cutting you off immediately, Sukuna held out his hand to help you down the last few steps. “I know you may think I am jealous, but I can promise you I am not.”

“Yes of course.” You could barely contain your giggle at his words. Sukuna was indeed jealous if the way his jaw clenched was any indication. When the vintner brought up another winemaker, Sukuna was almost too interested in the bottle being shown, taking much more care to pay attention than you’d seen from him in the past.

After a rich and filling lunch, you were led out to the wineries terrace where there were several bottles waiting for you. Taking a seat, the staff assigned to the tasting wasted no time in filling your glasses and explaining the different blends and notes associated with each wine.

By the time you were finished, the sky was a burning orange and red and you were just starting to get hungry for dinner. You lost track of how many wines you’d tried and certainly which ones you liked or not; after a bit the flavors had all blended together. Bidding farewell to the vintner, you and Sukuna climbed into the carriage with a few more bottles of wine, even taking the unfinished bottles you had at the tasting.

Riding to a small but lively restaurant back in town, you were given the best seats in the house, able to watch people dancing and playing music. Sukuna had urged you to finish off a bottle by yourself in the carriage, so by the time the food came out you had nearly forgotten all table manners.

“I wish to dance.” You announced, your voice a bit too loud for a conversation between the two of you.

“Sit down.” Sukuna tried - and failed - to keep you from getting up as one song ended and another started. Approaching the dance floor, you quickly found a partner in another woman, one happy to take the lead through the dance.

You quickly devolved into a fit of happy, drunken giggles as you danced. Dancing here was different than in the ton, it mattered not what gender you were with and who did what position. You even changed partners several times throughout one song, becoming rapidly bewildered at who was who and even who you were.

“Oh Miss Marjorie, you are lovely!” Giving your original partner a large hug after a great number of dances, you swayed on your feet as she embraced you back.

“Oh likewise, Your Grace! It is an honor!” She seemed to be drunk as well, both of you slurring your words. Leaving you for a brief moment, she returned with two small glasses in her hand. “For you and the Prince!” Gasping happily, your smile was never brighter when you turned and waved at Sukuna. He had stood from his seat to watch you move around but did not venture further onto the floor.

“Thank you.” He was persuaded by your insistent waving and sauntered over, taking one glass and downing it swiftly. Not seeing him react to what was in the cup, you did the same but almost coughed it back up. You were not prepared for the sharp and burning sting of alcohol to hit the back of your throat, nor for it to burn so fiercely as it went down into your stomach.

“Sorry Your Grace, I should have warned you!” Marjorie laughed, patting you on the back as you coughed a few times.

“I-I’m fine.” Waving off her concern, you took a couple deep breaths and turned to Sukuna. “How can you be fine after that?”

“I’ve drunk stronger things in the military.” He simply shrugged, nonchalant to the whole thing. “Now if you excuse me, I’d like to go sit back down.”

“No!” You gasped, grabbing onto Sukuna’s arm as he tried to leave. “You have to dance with me!” Sukunas brow rose considerably at that, unable to tell if you meant it or not.

“I’m sure there are others you’d much rather dance with.” Sukunas attempt to try and shrug you off were in vain, you wouldn’t budge on the matter. After trying and failing a second and third time, he sighed in defeat. “Fine! One dance.”

Clapping giddily, you and Sukuna got positioned on the dance floor and began the moves. This one was similar to the other dances you were doing, switching partners and getting close to other people. Unbeknownst to you, Sukunas eyes stayed on you the entire time, making sure you came back to him as the dance progressed.

“Do not be jealous, Your Highness.” You teased him upon seeing his expression. This was the third dance he just finished and you could tell he was fuming.

“I’m not.” Sukuna vehemently denied, shaking his head a little too hard.

“You are, it is written all over your face.” Throwing his statement from earlier in the day in his face, you laughed as he rolled his eyes in defeat.

“I just- I do not like seeing all those other people dancing with you. You are my partner, not theirs.” Did he mean in just the dance or in another way as well? Your mind couldn’t dwell on the deeper meaning of it - or the meaning of anything, truly - and instead you acted on instinct and boldly grabbed onto Sukunas hand.

“You are my partner as well.” Your smile was goofy and it made Sukuna laugh.

“God, you vex me at times.” He had a smile on his face for the rest of the night, happily dancing with you for songs where you didn’t need to change partners. As the night wore on, the two of you got increasingly inebriated, so much so that Sukunas valet had to herd you into the carriage to take you back to the inn.

It was a struggle for your servants to help dress you in your nightclothes, both of you unable to be still in your respective changing areas. When Sukuna returned to the room, he saw you weren’t wearing your robe like last night.

“Ready for bed, Princess?” He said, forcing himself not to make a comment on your choice of clothing or the fact that your gown was a tad sheer, allowing him to see hints of the outline of your body. He felt himself getting hot under the collar, which made him chuckle; he had refused to put on a shirt when dressing, claiming he was much too hot for that.

“I am.” You stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it, giving no care for how you looked at the moment. You didn’t even make a sound when Sukuna climbed in after blowing out the last candle, his body brushing yours as you chose to lay in the middle of the bed.

“Princess, how can we sleep like this?” Sukuna was trying so hard to be respectful but with the way you were lying diagonally and kicking your legs up every so often proved it very difficult. You grumbled something unintelligible, unable to form a sentence as drowsiness got the best of you.

After a few failed attempts at getting you to move, Sukuna had frustrated you enough that you let out a loud groan and sat up, allowing him to get comfortable before laying half on top of him. One of your legs was wrapped around his hips while your arms flailed about before settling to wrap around his upper body. With your head securely tucked into the side of his neck, you were finally able to calm down and rest.

“Goodnight Sukuna.” You whispered, slurring his name horribly. It wasn’t clear what possessed you to say his first name like this, but you didn’t seem to mind the way it rolled off your tongue. Sukuna stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“G-goodnight, (Y-Princess.” He faltered, unable to say it at the last minute. As he recalls, he was the one who wanted to drop the formalities but as soon as the opportunity arose, he wasn’t able to take it. He practiced saying your name in his head but by the time he got the courage, you were snoring softly. Saving it for another day, Sukuna reciprocated your embrace and wrapped a hand around your back, keeping you snug against him as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh Princess, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

[prolifeproliberty]

Had a conversation with a couple friends last night where we were talking about just how out of hand weddings get, and I brought up the fact that weddings in Christian-majority cultures used to not be separate events. Sure, if you were royalty/nobility you’d have a big spectacle, but partially because your wedding was also a political event.

For a long time in Christian cultures, the wedding happened on a Sunday during normal Mass/church service, just as Baptisms and confirmations do today.

When I said this, my friends (who have two small children) expressed how beautiful they thought that was (not overdoing the spectacle, keeping it connected to the church and focused on Jesus, having the whole church family there, etc) and how they hoped for something like that for their children.

Maybe this is the answer to the spectacle of weddings. You can still have a nice dress, you can still hold a bouquet, you can still have friends and family there. But the purpose of the wedding ceremony is to have your community there as witnesses - yes, if your best friend from childhood wants to fly in, that’s awesome. But who is going to be there to support you as a couple when the honeymoon phase ends? Your church community.

We might need to start encouraging the trend of making weddings part of the life of the Church again, rather than a spectacle of wealth that puts new couples in debt (new couples who then say they can’t afford to have kids…)

In a Facebook group I’m a part of, someone shared this video. It’s from a Lutheran church in Romania. This was their Sunday service yesterday, and it included a wedding (skip to 1:01:55 for that part)

Note, I don’t know this couple. I don’t know what things about this ceremony were their choice, or were tradition in their community. I don’t know if the woman chose a simple dress because she’s just not a fancy dress person.

But what I love about this is that it’s a simple wedding where marriage is still seen as a sacred bond. This isn’t a courthouse wedding or a Vegas chapel wedding. It’s sacred, it’s reverent, it’s special, and it’s simple. Christ is the center, and everything is draped with the Word of God and the historic liturgy of the Church.

If you chose to do your wedding this way, you could still wear a fancier dress, you could still have your father (or other father figure) walk you down the aisle and give you away. But a wedding during the church service with a cake and punch reception in the fellowship hall after service is every bit as a valid as the $100k weddings on TikTok. In fact, with the research on the relationship between wedding cost and divorce rate, the simple wedding is likely better.

Now, I’m saying this as someone who had a relatively expensive wedding, at least compared to the video above. My parents were willing to pay for the bells and whistles because I’m the only daughter, they had a simple wedding, and they wanted me to have all the things. I very much appreciate their willingness to do so, and I have great memories from that day. But it wouldn’t have weakened my marriage in any way if we had a simpler wedding, and if we had a culture where simple church weddings were the norm, I think we’d have fewer divorces.

[minipliny]

A book written as a found text in Syriac by a 4th century monk detailing the Nestorian controversy and the Council of Ephesus which split East from West! A controversial takedown of the sanctified Bishop Cyril of Alexandria for the horrific mob violence he whipped up! And a man in conversation with the devil.

What can I say, my standards for historical fiction are very high and the theological controversies of the early church are something I've actually studied, and this book delivered. I actually had to stop reading it for a week when Hypatia of Alexandria was introduced and our narrator falls in love with a pagan woman because I knew what was coming and couldn't bear to see it brought so vividly to life.

For all that the subject matter sounds dry, what Ziedan captures brilliantly is why these controversies mattered and what the political machinations around them meant for people. Our monk protagonist with his pagan father and Christian mother is just as aware of the beauty and horror of Christianity in the late antique period, and the complexity of his viewpoint gives the book's critique of ideological.violence and of the suppression of women its bite.

Content warning for csa and graphic violence at points (as you might have guessed if you know the history)

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 10.8k

Reading Time: 43 min

Warnings: angry sex, begging, biting, corruption kink, creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus, dry humping, fear kink?, groping, feelings of claustrophobia, hair pulling, low self-esteem, mentions of grooming (non-sexual), multiple orgasms, nipple play, pain kink, penetrative sex, PIV sex, possessive Copia, primal kink?, praise kink, pussy slapping, rough sex, semi-public sex, this is objectively filthy, unprotected sex (sash the dick to smash the slick, lads), vaginal sex

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadyladyx @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622 @jaymechaos @akayuki56

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Your conversation with Copia left you feeling perturbed at best. Something didn’t sit right with you. As the Ministry’s librarian and main archivist, you knew most of the prophecies that circled the Church - none of them mentioned the antichrist’s Prime Mover, not that you could remember, anyway. That prophecy ate away at you, gnawing its way into your brain like a worm fig fly burrowing into an unripe fig.

Arriving back at the library, you were bombarded by Aisha and Riley, both of whom had seen Copia talking to you when he should have blessed you. Both had their concerns, of course, worried that you’d fall back into some kind of relationship with him and wind up with your heart broken again, but when they heard what you’d learned, they were just as stumped as you.

“It’s entirely possible that you’re wrong about this, ___.” Aisha said, her tone hesitant but still as honest as usual. “I don’t understand why someone would base their whole lives around a prophecy that wasn’t accurate… or real.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you replied, animated in your actions, “no one in their right mind would. I feel like I need to put on a tin-foil hat right now and go to my cork board, but I have read damn near every inch of this library. I’ve digested almost every single Satanic, religious text I can get my hands on. I’ve read all the prophecies we know of thus far - I just don’t remember this one specific one.”

“But,” Riley interjected, their tone just as measured as Aisha’s, “there are thousands of prophecies after all. You can’t expect to remember each one.”

“No, but I do expect to be reminded of them as I hear them. Of course, I couldn’t remember every single one in great detail, but I’d remember the gist at the very least.”

Aisha, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, I guess.”

Riley, “What can we do?”

“We? Bitch, I know you’re not dragging me into this stupid charade.”

“Look at it this way, the faster she figures out what the prophecy is, the faster she can move on and we can all forget this debacle.”

Aisha looked at you and clapped her hands. “Where do we begin?”

Well, that was the question. In a library filled with thousand-year-old texts, each with its own historical relevance and prophecies given by each author who just wanted attention or fame, where would one begin? When every book in that room carried mystical contents, it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. So, you all chose a large, mahogany table and set that up as your base, comandeering each seat and preventing anyone else from using it or interrupting you. Then, you all searched for and grabbed any historical text in reference to prophesies or the antichrist and dumped them all on the table. How many books were there in the end? How many stacks had piled up so high that you’d created yourselves a small prison? 300. 300 ancient, scholarly texts that had mention to the antichrist and relevant prophecies.

Aisha and Riley took it in turns to manage front desk for you, but both of them took a stack of books and a notepad with them so that they could continue the research in their down time. You, on the other hand, remained at the desk, allowing your other work to fall behind so you could figure this out. It was like your brain could only focus on one important task at a time, and when you discovered that this was important, it ended up taking top priority.

Daytime became nighttime, and nighttime became hazy cycles of reading relics and skimming over pages full of prophecies that blended into one another like a jumble of misplaced words. As the light from the lamp flickered across the tattered covers of the volumes, the library filled with the smell of old paper.

There were open books all around you, their yellowed pages teeming with historical descriptions of apocalyptic visions, and mysterious symbols. The prophecy’s complex language mingled with the deep religious debate, creating a maze of material that seemed designed to confuse rather than educate.

You carefully noted every detail that even slightly referred to the prophecy in question, cross-referenced sections, and compared the subtle differences between translations. Notes strewn all over the pages, a disorganised collage of your efforts to put the jigsaw together.

You kept getting the feeling that you were chasing shadows as you dug deeper into the texts, reaching for something that was evasive and eluded you every time you believed you had a lead. There were creases on your cheeks from exhaustion and the weight of the old books pressing down on your shoulders.

You worked side by side with Aisha and Riley, who translated texts, brought you food, and consoled you when you felt that you could no longer take the frustration any longer. The three of you formed an unofficial partnership to take on the mystery surrounding the prophecy.

Nights became days, and you couldn’t tell which day it was. Every page you turned echoed the murmur of countless seekers who had gone before you, the moments merging into an invisible blur.

And then, in the midst of the seemingly endless search, a faint glimmer of recognition sparked in your mind. A passage, hidden within the dense verses, bore a semblance to the prophecy in question. The revelation struck like lightning, awakening a surge of determination within you.

“No!” You said, much louder than you’d anticipated.

Riley and Aisha snapped their heads to your direction (as did the rest of the library goers who were startled by your outburst.) “What?” Riley asked, standing from their seat and leaning over the desk at you.

“The prophecy Copia and Sister Imperator believes just doesn’t exist. It’s like it’s been conflated from an old antichrist theory from centuries ago. Listen to this, “‘the antichrist will be born on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year. Only then can he come forth and do Satan’s bidding, bring about the end times and raze a new Hell upon this Earth.’ This prophecy was taken from an old Catholic text and whoever deciphered it left footnotes and opinions.

“The translator doesn’t believe that the antichrist would bring about the end times, not in the way Catholics believe. Armageddon won’t pass as a rain of fire from the sky and the destruction of the planet, but more like a sociological shift that will destroy the Catholic church and bring education to those indoctrinated by Yhwh’s Bible.

“What I’m getting at is that there’s no mention at all of a wife for the antichrist, or if the antichrist will even produce an offspring at all. In fact, the author seems to believe that this sociological shift will become the antichrist’s final act - ‘the antichrist will die at the hands of the non-believers, messiah’d in the same way as their saviour, for only death can bring the motivation of the masses to call for a change of the system’.”

“So why does Sister Imperator place so much emphasis on the ‘wife-with-three-sixes-in-their-birth-date’ theory?” Aisha asked, putting her book down and looking at you.

You shrugged. “Maybe she’s mistaken?”

Riley shook their head. “No. Sister Imperator doesn’t make mistakes - she bends the Ministry to her will to benefit her. She’s far too smart to make mistakes as big as this.”

“You think this is more sinister?”

Riley nodded. “Surely she must have said something to you the last time you saw her?”

You began to shake your head, eyebrows furrowing at how hard you were thinking back to your conversation with her. “She told me to never let them see what they’ve done to me.”

“That was after you saw Copia fucking another person. I’m talking about before, when you felt like you had to go see him in the first place.”

You tried to remember everything that happened during that conversation, but it had become so long ago that the details had become a little fuzzy. “She did say something a bit strange now that I’m thinking about it. She said something like, ‘we didn’t work this hard for the Cardinal’s career for it to fail’ but the ‘we’ was an ‘I’ until she corrected herself.”

“See?”

Aisha, “So you think that Sister Imperator has organised this whole thing? Nah, I’m not buying it. If she organised this then why didn’t she make herself Mama and be done with it?”

“Because,” Riley rummaged through one of their piles of books and flicked to a page, “according to the Emeritus lore… mythology… whatever… the Satanic Church runs as a democratic type of monarchy - we can have a say on who we want to run the Church, but they have to come from the Emeritus bloodline given that they are, supposedly, direct descendants of Lord Lucifer Himself.

“Now, up until he became head of the Church, no one knew for sure who Cardinal Copia’s parents were. The amount of interest Sister Imperator showed on the kid made everyone believe Imperator was his mum, but no one could be certain if Papa Nihil was the Cardinal’s father. Just because the Cardinal has the typical Heterochromia doesn’t mean it’s real. Remember how people whispered about the idea that Imperator made the Cardinal wear contacts every day? It wasn’t until he became Head of the Church that people started accepting the Cardinal’s lineage, because only an Emeritus can lead the Church. Sister Imperator is not an Emeritus. She can’t directly lead the congregation. But her son can.”

“This sounds unbelievable.” Aisha claimed. “If the Cardinal was an Emeritus, then why is he still Cardinal? Why isn’t he Papa?”

Riley thought for a minute. “Maybe because Papa Nihil is still alive.”

“Then surely Papa Nihil would be Head of the Church right now, since Papa Terzo passed?”

“After last time?” You asked. “Nah, he wouldn’t take up that position again. Why do you think Papa Primo took over while Papa Nihil was still alive? Even if Papa Nihil wants to be the Head again, I don’t think the Clergy would let him.”

“Maybe that’s why the Cardinal is still Cardinal,” Riley added, “the Clergy won’t let another son ascend to Papalcy as long as a Papa is alive.”

“Which is why Papas Primo, Secondo and Terzo died.” You said quietly. “She said, ‘we didn’t work this hard for the Cardinal’s career for it to fail’, and we know the previous Papas didn’t die of natural causes…”

“They had to die because they would have fought back against Sister Imperator and her wishes!” Riley exclaimed closing their book and dropping it to the table. “My head is spinning.”

“But she said ‘we’,” Aisha thought aloud, “who’s ‘we’? She couldn’t have done all of this alone.”

“Aisha’s right,” you said, “this had to have been a group coup, there’s no way one woman could pull off three murders and an ascension all by herself.”

Aisha, “Well, Papa Nihil is still alive, so we know he must have been involved somehow.”

Riley, “Who stood to gain from the Cardinal’s ascension? Who did gain from the ascension? Who’s new to the Upper Clergy?”

You, “Cardinal García’s new, he wasn’t around before Papa Terzo.”

“Cardinal Dubois and Cardinal Li.”

“Archbishop Müller was bragging about his payrise in the bar not three weeks after Papa Terzo’s removal back in Sweden.”

“Now Cardinal Al-Farsi was removed from his position in the Upper Clergy, and we know it was because he was actively against the removal of Papa Terzo.” Riley looked at Aisha, now standing wide eyed and frozen in her spot. “Aisha?”

“Sister Evelyn Chandler.”

“Who?” You asked.

“She’s due to be the Cardinal’s Prime Mover in all of this, apparently she has three sixes in her birth date as well. No one benefits as much as she does.”

Your world came crashing down around you once again, your brain ticking into overdrive as you remembered catching Copia rocking against the other woman in his office months ago. During the first and only Mass you’d attended since then, you remembered seeing her wandering into the Basilica behind Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator as a third, important member of the family, but your mind was hyper-focussed on seeing Copia for the first time in so long, you almost didn’t register her. Almost.

In all the time since you caught them together, your mind had been all over the place. If the whole Ministry was talking about Sister Evelyn and the Cardinal, then how could you have missed it? The short answer was that you just weren’t listening. As a way to distract yourself from what had happened between you and Copia, once you’d left your home and re-entered society, you had holed yourself away in your office to work on the translations. Seeing her for the first time (truly seeing her, not just as a lump on Copia’s lap) during Mass, it didn’t register that she was the person grinding into Copia’s crotch, and that she had become important enough to be paraded to the entire congregation.

She never interacted with you, never acknowledged your presence, never looked at you, not that you’d noticed anyway. It was so easy to just not see her. But now it was all flooding into your brain, the idea that she and Sister Imperator could have orchestrated this whole thing behind Copia’s back.

Was Copia in on this?

No, he couldn’t possibly be. He seemed genuinely angry at the “prophecy” and how he’d have no part in it if he was given the option. Besides, no one advocated for Papa Terzo harder than Copia. Copia publicly looked up to Papa Terzo, worshipped him almost similarly to his worship of Satan. He wouldn’t be happy with the death of his half brother, not when he idolised him so much. Watching him from afar for as long as you did, meant you were able to see him in multiple different moods, and he mourned Papa Terzo. He mourned his half-brother for months, almost the whole year he’d been Head of the Church and leader of the Ghost Project. He definitely wouldn’t have gone through with it… right?

“So where do we go from here?” Aisha asked both you and Riley, pulling you out of your miniature crisis.

“Well,” Riley began, “I’m not entirely sure. We have all this circumstantial evidence, but there’s no proof of anything. Like I said, Sister Imperator’s smart, she’d hardly leave any physical proof of her crimes.”

Aisha turned to look at you. “You said you wanted to figure this out and now you have. All you have to do is present all of,” she gestured vaguely to the table, “this to the Cardinal and then you can move on.”

“What if he’s in on it?” You queried, your voice quiet and scared.

Riley shook their head. “Nah. The Cardinal’s a lot of things - ‘dumbass’ would be a word I’d use for him - but he’s not the kind of person to usurp the Satanic throne for his own personal or political gain. I mean, look at the man; he spent all his fifty years trying to be invisible. If it makes you feel any better, I think he’s a naïve and gullible idiot who’s so desperate for his mother’s love and approval, he’d do anything to appease her. You said yourself he doesn’t believe he’s the antichrist, right?”

“Right.”

“Well then, there you go. There’s your answer. He thinks he’s in this position because it’s the right and prophesied thing to do. Not because he’s a puppet in his mother’s games.”

Aisha’s tone was lighthearted. “Honestly, fair play to her. A bad bitch who knows what she wants. I admire that.” Both you and Riley looked at her with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. “What?” She stood from her seat. “I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs.” She turned to walk away and raised her fist in the air. “Go live your best life, Queen!”

Riley sighed. “I hate her sometimes.”

“Mmm,” you agreed. “You gonna help me put these back?”

Riley sucked in air through their teeth and began to back away from the desk. “You know, I would, but Sister Kowalski said she needed help finding books about rituals and, you know, can’t let Sister Kowalski down.” They gestured to the table. “But you got this, right?”

You shot a middle finger at them.

“Atta girl!”

Setting the books back was a lonely task thanks to Riley’s disappearance and Aisha ‘working at the front desk so she can’t leave’. But it gave you chance to think about the situation at hand.

There was a crushing feeling of helplessness that descended over you as you carefully returned those old books to their shelves. With every book you placed back, the magnitude of the problem became more apparent and the weight of the knowledge you acquired felt like a burden. You felt exposed and helpless when you realised you were trapped in a web of deception and surrounded by people who had ulterior motives. The Ghouls and Sisters around you went about their business, oblivious to the storm building within you. You were more aware of your inner struggle in the library’s profound silence.

The sensation that you were just a pawn in a much bigger game lingered as you pushed a hefty volume back into its proper position. Your sanity was being tormented by doubts regarding Copia’s role, Sister Imperator’s actual motivations, and the possibility of Upper Clergy influence. Your impression of being trapped was echoed by the library’s walls, which seemed to be closing in on you.

Copia’s POV

With every passing hour, Copia was more and more convinced that he’d never see or hear from you again - at least in the way that he wanted to. He paced the floor of his office when he was alone inside of it, mind raging at the prospect of living his life without you. He was so convinced that you were running from him - and who could blame you? He felt like a sham, a joker with the hat of a Cardinal and all the responsibility of a Papa. Out of all of it, all the attention and the duties, he only wanted you. And he was tormenting himself as punishment for doing stupid things that could lose you in the end.

A knock on the door interrupted Copia’s thoughts as he paced his office, gripped by the agony of possible loss. Startled, he turned to face the entryway, a glimmer of anticipation replacing the dread etched on his features. “Come in,” he called out, his voice a mix of apprehension and hope.

The door creaked open, and a Sibling stepped into the room. Copia thought he recognised this person, but being the head of the Church and living in the Ministry alongside thousands of other clergy members, everyone’s face was familiar to him. “Good afternoon, Your Dark Eminence,” they greeted cautiously, closing the door behind them. “Mind if I have a word?”

Copia, his expression a blend of curiosity and anxiety, gestured for Riley to proceed. “Of course, Sibling… uh…”

“Sibling Riley Martinez, Your Dark Eminence. I work with Sister ___ in the library.”

At the mention of your name, Copia’s stomach flipped. He was excited to know that you’d sent one of your friends to talk to him, but nervous at that exact fact. What did you not want to say? Or rather, why didn’t you want to convey your message yourself? Why did you send your friend as he would a Ghoul? “Ah, yes. Sibling Martinez, what brings you here? Is everything okay?”

“Well, Your Dark Eminence, no. May I?” Sibling Martinez gestured to the sofa in front of Copia’s desk. Copia nodded, and invited Sibling Martinez to sit.

They cleared their throat and began to tell Copia exactly what they and their friends had discovered. Copia listened carefully as Sibling Martinez revealed the information, each word hitting the weak spot in his heart like a hammer. The information weighed heavily on him, and a hint of resentment started to peek through the gaps in his calm demeanour. Fury couldn’t even begin to cover how Copia felt. His wrath simmered beneath the surface as the truth came to light. His hands balled into fists as he tried to control the flood of feelings that were about to explode; not that Sibling Martinez would know, from the outside Copia looked calm and collected, as if he was just listening to any old story. But on the inside, he was seething…

Sibling Martinez continued to share the discoveries, detailing the inconsistencies in the supposed prophecy and connecting the dots to Sister Imperator’s potential involvement in a larger, more sinister plan. Copia’s jaw tightened, his frustration morphing into a potent mixture of anger and betrayal. “So, she’s been playing me all along,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sibling Martinez. The realisation was a bitter pill to swallow, and the taste of deceit lingered in his mouth.

“Sister ___ also suspects that Sister Evelyn Chandler is a key player in all of this. The three sixes in her birth date, the sudden rise in her status—”

The anger within Copia surged to the forefront. He slammed his hand against the desk, the impact resonating through the room. “Maledizione!” he exclaimed, his frustration breaking through. “I trusted them. I trusted Sister Imperator. And I thought Evelyn was just a pawn, but they’ve been orchestrating this entire thing.”

Sibling Martinez nodded, acknowledging the weight of the revelation. “It seems that way, Your Dark Eminence. Sister ___ would have wanted you to know. She’s trying to make sense of it all, just like you are. She doesn’t know what to do about any of this, though.”

Copia paced the room, the fire of betrayal burning within him. “And you? What do you think of all this?” he asked, his gaze piercing into Sibling Martinez’s eyes.

Sibling Martinez hesitated for a moment before responding, “It’s a lot to take in, Your Dark Eminence. But if there’s a plot against you, we want to help expose it.”

Copia continued to pace the room, his mind brimming and full with fresh rage. The cogs in his brain were ticking over and over. Something about Sister Evelyn’s involvement didn’t quite add up, though. If the plot was based around a flimsy, untrue prophecy, then Sister Evelyn would know that it wasn’t real - yet, she, like Copia, was fully immersed in the whole farce. But what was the answer.

He stopped pacing and turned back to his guest. “Who did you say benefited from my ascension?” Sibling Martinez listed the known members of the Clergy and Copia clicked his fingers together. “You’re missing one. I’ve just discovered Sister Chandler’s involvement.”

“Your Dark Eminence?”

“Of course she benefits - of course she does. She becomes Prime Mover. But, she was unaware of this whole plot, I’m convinced.”

“So how is she involved?”

“It’s not her. It’s her father - Saltarian.”

“Cardinal Saltarian? I don’t know him, I’m sorry.”

Copia shook his head. “Not Cardinal, just Mr. He has no title. Mr. Saltarian has been in my life for almost thirty years at this point, a very good friend of my mother’s. There’s not much that he doesn’t know, to be truthful. He’s a spy to everyone - not a man to be trusted. He may not be a member of the Church per se, but I doubt my brother’s deaths didn’t line his back pockets in some capacity. Not to mention his daughter becoming my Prime Mover. That would give him a power that he wouldn’t have as a mere Cardinal.”

“So what are we going to do about this, Your Dark Eminence?”

Copia stopped and thought for a moment, weighing all of his options. “You do nothing.” Sibling Martinez went to protest but Copia continued. “For now at least. I appreciate you coming to me with this information, Sibling. And please thank Sister ___ for starting this whole investigation. After everything I’ve done to her, I don’t deserve it.”

“Well, she doesn’t want you suffering. What will you do?”

“I’m not sure.”

The truth was, Copia was sure, he just didn’t want word getting back to you. Not yet anyway. The way Copia was feeling, he was more than ready to burst into Sister Imperator’s office and confront her about all of this. It wasn’t until Sibling Martinez had left that Copia was able to straighten himself up and storm to his scheming mother’s office, and unfortunately for her, she was there.

He didn’t knock - he didn’t see the need. He was too angry for pleasantries and kindnesses. Sister Imperator didn’t have a guest, so he could get right to the point without disturbing another person. “Ah, Cardinal.” She said, an amiable smile on her face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Three sixes in her birth date, hm, Sister? That’s why Sister Evelyn is to be my Prime Mover?” Copia’s attitude was foul, completely out of character for him.

“So the prophecy says.”

“So it is to do with the prophecy and nothing to do with Mr. Saltarian’s involvement in raising me to power?”

She was silent for a moment, just a brief second too long, but that was all the confirmation Copia needed.

“You are despicable.”

Sister Imperator’s expression remained stoic, her eyes meeting Copia’s with unwavering confidence. “Everything was done for the Church, for our cause. The emergence of the antichrist is a crucial moment in our history, and we can’t afford to let it slip away.”

Copia scoffed, the bitterness in his tone cutting through the air. “For the Church? Or for your own gain? Mr. Saltarian’s involvement, the manipulation of prophecies, the orchestration of all three of my brother’s deaths - all to secure power for yourself.”

Sister Imperator leaned back in her chair, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Power is a means to an end, Cardinal. Our mission is to bring about the reign of Satan on Earth. Sacrifices must be made, alliances forged, and obstacles removed.”

Copia’s anger intensified, a storm brewing within him. “You manipulated me, used me as a pawn in your game. And for what? To satisfy your thirst for control?”

“Control is essential in guiding the destiny of the Church. Your ascension was necessary, Cardinal. You were groomed for this role, and now, you stand at the precipice of a new era. To serve as the antichrist just as the prophecies have told!”

Copia shook his head, his disbelief transforming into a fiery resolve. “I won’t be a puppet in your schemes any longer. I won’t let you exploit the Church - and me - for your personal agenda.”

Sister Imperator chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “You’re still learning, my dear Cardinal. The puppeteer does not relinquish control so easily. The Church needs a leader, and you were chosen for a reason.”

Copia’s resolve saw through the complex web of deceit, and his eyes hardened. “I won’t play your games any longer. I’ll expose the truth to the congregation. They deserve to know the extent of your manipulation.”

“Expose me, my dear boy, and the entire congregation will work to overthrow you.”

“So be it. I never wanted this role - this was your dream.”

“You wouldn’t. Now, enough with this idiocy, Cardinal. You have duties to attend to and a ritual to prepare for.”

“I’m going to put a stop to this.”

“Mhmm. Of course you will.” Sister Imperator went back to fiddling with papers on her desk, making herself look busy in order to get Copia to leave.

With a blazing determination in his eyes, Copia left Sister Imperator’s words trailing behind him. The seriousness of the situation weighed on him, but he couldn’t turn his gaze away from the betrayal that had occurred. He wondered where to go next as he made his way more into the Ministry.

There was an unsettling silence in the hallways, and shadows played on the walls. Copia’s mind whirled with ideas about how the congregation would respond, potential partners he might discover, and the impending threat of Sister Imperator’s power. He knew he needed help, and he needed someone he could rely on.

Copia entered the library in search of comfort, the smell of ancient volumes and parchment reassuring him, and guiding him to a familiar room. He discovered you absorbed in your task, a serene determination on your face. The agony and turmoil of the past had given way to a steely resolution, a testament to your resilience.

You looked up as Copia entered, a mix of surprise and apprehension in your eyes. “Your Dark Eminence,” you greeted respectfully standing from your seat with your voice betraying no emotion. Your eyes were just as wide and doe-like as they were the last time he saw this expression on your face, except that time you wore his bedsheets as a dress. That time he ravished you on his dining room table and showed you absolutely no mercy. The mood he was in again, he didn’t want to show you any mercy again; he wanted you beneath him on that desk, screaming his name and taking everything he was willing to give, everything he felt like he had to give.

Was he wrong for feeling this way? Absolutely. After everything he put you through and after promising to wait for your answer, he should be doing that. He should be waiting for you to contact him. He should be giving you the space and time that you needed to work through this. But there was too much anger coursing through his veins, too much adrenaline working through his body with nowhere to go.

There was a look in his eyes that you’d never seen before - an anger that had never been present in all the time you’d observed him from afar, or spent directly in his presence. It terrified you - but had your core tightening in knots and aching for relief you’d not had in weeks. You wondered if you’d let him touch you like that again, if you’d give in to his urges in order to quell your own.

Copia opened his mouth as if to speak then closed it again. Despite his anger, he was still hesitating to get the words out. But he stepped closer to you, slowly, tentatively, as though moving would scare you off like the doe your eyes portrayed you to be. “You need to stop me if you don’t want this, amore.” He told you, his voice dangerously low and rumbling as he spoke. “Any word from you and I’ll walk away.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, breasts rising and falling with the heaviness of your breaths. Each step he took closer to you made you more and more breathless, your hairs standing on edge and your body tingling in anticipation.

He was right in front of you, a gloved hand reaching up to the back of your head and pulling at your hair from the roots, lifting your face to look directly into his and expose your neck. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to bend you over this desk and take what belongs to me. Will you let me, amore? Will you let me inside you again?”

You whimpered, unable to trust your voice to convey your thoughts accurately. Your mouth was drier than it had ever been, saliva refusing to flood your mouth and whet your lips. Your whimper was the only response you could muster, and it clearly displeased the Cardinal.

He tugged harder on your hair, lifting your head a little further back. “Words, amore. Use them.”

“Y-yes, Cardinal. I-I… want you inside me.”

Though your words were barely a stuttered whisper, Copia still counted them. His lips smashed against yours, teeth banging against teeth as he encapsulated your lips in a rough kiss. The hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair moved to your waist, pulling you closer to his body while he pushed you back against the desk, trapping you between him and the wood just as he did the first time he had you back in London. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting you again for the first time in so long, and groaning at the sensation. He missed this - he missed you. There was a part of him that wanted to be gentle with you, but the rest of him was too tightly wound; he couldn’t bring himself to handle you with care.

He broke the kiss and stepped away from you just long enough for him to grip your hips with both of his hands and turn you around, before he pressed you back up against the desk. His hard cock tented beneath his jeans and cassock, bulging against your ass cheek and reminding you just how much he desired you, how much he craved and needed you.

Your palms were flat to the lacquered wood, leaning against the desk for some support while Copia had his way with you. His hips gently rocked against your body, desperately rubbing himself against you as his lips attached themselves to your neck, kissing and licking at the exposed skin there. In frustration, he pulled your habit off your head and threw it to the ground, before placing his hands back at your hips. But those hands wandered as they loved to do, grabbing and squeezing at your body roughly, getting their fill of you after weeks of being deprived. He gripped onto your love handles, your stomach, moving his way up and groping at your breasts, squeezing and rubbing them beneath his gloves and your clothes. He caught hold of your nipples between his thumb and finger, while his teeth captured your ear and bit down gently.

“Copia!” You breathed, your hands moving to sit on top of his as they tweaked and pulled at your clothed nipples. Small moans escaped your lips as he toyed with your body, your pussy dripping and screaming for some attention.

Copia chuckled and released your ear. “Is she needy, hm? Needy for her Cardinal’s cock?”

“Please.”

“Sathanas - you have no idea how much I missed hearing you beg for me, amore.” He let go of your right nipple and ran his hand down your body, stopping at your crotch. He covered your cunt with his hand and gripped it. “Are you wet enough for my cock, I wonder? Are you ready for a good,” he slapped your cunt, “rough,” another slap, “fucking, hm?”

“Yes, Copia! Please!”

He lifted your habit and dipped his fingers into the waistband of your panties, hooking them against the elastic. “Tell me, amore. Tell me how much you want me to bend you over this desk and pound this cunt.” He pulled them down just enough to completely expose your bare pussy to him, a string of your wetness snapping when the fabric was pulled too far down your thighs.

“I w-want you so deep inside me. I’m so desperate for your c-cock, Copia. Please… please give it to me.” As you spoke, you felt him reach beneath his cassock and fumble with his clothes to free himself. “Fuck me, please!”

His hand came up to your shoulder blades and pushed you down flat against the desk. The other fisted his cock, stroking a few times before lining himself up with your dripping wet entrance.

“I won’t be gentle with you, amore.” His warning was delivered more like a threat, but it had your walls clenching nonetheless.

“Make it hurt.” You whispered.

He pushed in all the way to the hilt, not bothering to take it slow. He let your words go to his head and set a relentless pace inside of you, hitting your cervix deliciously and making you scream out with each thrust. Your cunt opened up for him just as easily as it always did, further proof that you were made for him. His hips snapped slowly, but roughly, making your entire body jiggle with the force of each one, and the heavy desk to slide across the floor.

Sliding into you felt like sliding home. After all the time he was away from you, he couldn’t have you, and hold you in his arms, there was a massive bout of relief that washed over him. This felt good, it felt right. It was everything he needed after all this time. And you felt the same way. You didn’t realise just how much you needed him and missed him until that moment.

Copia’s grunts as he rammed his cock inside you filled the room alongside the loud squelch of your cunt swallowing him whole. His hands were now attached to your hips, gripping onto them as tightly as he could, leaving red marks and bruises in his wake. Copia was so long and thick that he stretched you out so nicely, and he always made you feel so good inside. By the time he was finished with you, you were usually a sore, shaky pile on the bed, with little ability to move or even think. You could feel your knees weakening as Copia rearranged your insides, your whole body turning to mush at his hard mercy - a mercy he wasn’t willing to show you as he picked up his speed but maintained his roughness.

There was a dull ache that came with the head of his cock slamming into you as hard as he did, but you worshipped the feeling. After going so long without feeling him stretch and fuck you, you needed to feel him, no matter how much burning came with it.

Your ass jiggled more than normal as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts and arched your back as far as you could for him. He let loose a torrent of profanities in Italian, each one telling you how you felt incredible for him, wrapped around him and squeezing him so fucking tightly he could hardly breathe.

“Made to take this cock, eh?” He huffed, his Cardinal paints dripping from his face with the exertion of his movements. “Built for me to fuck whenever I wanted to. Cazzo! I didn’t take you as much as I should have. Should have had you hanging off my dick every fucking day. Closest to fucking Heaven I’ll ever get. Fuck!”

“Right th-there! Oh, fuck, Copia! Right there!” You moved your hand down to your clit and began to rub at it, furiously stroking your bundle of nerves and tightening around him, causing him to let out a groan so deep and gutteral, it had you whining for him.

“Always so tight for me, amore.” He breathed as he watched the cream from your pussy gather at the base of his cock. “Always so wet and pliant, taking everything I give you like a good fucking girl.”

He started thrusting more rapidly and erratically. The fingers that had been gripping your hips clenched even more tightly than before, as if he was afraid you may vanish at any moment and leave him without an orgasm.

“Copia! You - fuck! - You’re gonna make me cu-cum!” You could feel your toes curling in your shoes, your brain turning to mush at the feeling of him rearranging your insides like he hadn’t done before.

“Tell me, please, amore! Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“Copia, n-nobody could… compare! Nobody could ever… make me cum… like you. Fuck, Copia, I’m so close. Please!” You continued to work yourself into a frenzy, rubbing quickly over your clit and applying more pressure, your other hand gripping onto the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles were turning white.

Your cunt cinched tighter around him, making him feel almost choked. As you reached your peak, it became extremely hard for him to move inside of you. Copia felt his knees turn to jelly from the force of his body, forcing him to thrust within you one last time before spilling his load into your twitching hole, a strangled groan falling from his throat as he bent at the waist, sweaty forehead resting on your back while he was emptying himself into you.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He pulled out of you, ignoring your whine at the loss of connection. You turned your body as much as you could to watch Copia fall to his knees behind you, groping your ass cheeks and pushing them upwards, in turn spreading your labia apart and watching as his cum spilled from you like honey from a wand. “So fucking filthy for me, amore. What a gift for me, eh? I was blessed by the Dark One, no?” With his hands still pulling your body apart, he dove into your cunt, licking the dripping cum from your hole first before playing with your sensitive clit when he’d deemed your labia clean enough.

His tongue came down on your hole again causing you to cry out in sensitivity as he dipped his tongue inside you, scooping out his seed and swallowing everything he’d gathered. The one hand that played with your clit was now tangled in his salt and pepper hair, pushing him deeper into your pussy as it screamed for a second release.

“Amore, does my tongue feel that good?” He tormented you with his remarks, stroking over your clit with his gloved fingers in place of his mouth for a little while. “It’s that good that I could make you cry like that? Merda! Listen to yourself.” To prove his point, he started to suck on your clit more forcefully, making the squelch of your heat louder with each rough move.

Following his actions you tried again to stifle your cries by biting your lower lip, but it didn’t work. Instead, your cum leaked out of your body onto his face, soaking his moustache as you came a second time. He was moaning at your taste, and you could hear him slurping everything up, like he was sipping from a water fountain. It wasn’t until you physically pushed him away, your body exhausted and shaking that he finally stopped tormenting you with his tongue, and backed up.

Like an old man usually would, he groaned as he stood up from his knees, gripping onto the desk to help him stand as his own body wasn’t responding as it should. You chuckled at him, a lazy laugh spilling from your lips as you watched him rest against the desk, tucking his soft cock back beneath his clothes. His breathing was heavy and ragged, and his chin still glistened with your release, his hands not wiping him clean yet for reasons unbeknownst to you. So, you fought with your own weakness to stand in front of him, and kissed him, your tongue popping out from behind your lips and licking up your juices from his lips. Once you pulled away, you rubbed your thumb over his chin and wiped up the excess of your cum, sucking it into your mouth.

“You shouldn’t do things like that,” he complained, “I’m too tired to fuck you again. Give me a few minutes.”

You laughed. “Rest and recover, old man.” You said, tapping his chest with your hand. You began to pull your panties back up and make yourself presentable. “What brought all that on?”

Copia explained his reasoning for coming to find you, that he didn’t intend on fucking you within an inch of your life, but he saw you and he had too much energy, too much adrenaline, he just couldn’t help himself. You listened intently, affectionately holding onto his arm and pressing soft kisses there every now and then. It wasn’t until he’d been silent for a few seconds that you realised tears were beginning to fall from his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blubbed upon noticing you’d seen him, “I’m so sorry.”

Copia’s sudden apology caught you off guard. You reached up, gently wiping away the tears from his eyes. Concern crept into your voice as you asked, “What’s wrong, Copia? Why are you sorry?”

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I… I just can’t believe how much I’ve hurt you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I want it so badly.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his eyes. You sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We can work through this, okay? We can figure things out together.”

He nodded, appreciating your understanding. “I love you, ___,” he confessed, his voice laced with sincerity. “I’ve never felt this way before, and I don’t want to lose you.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I love you too, Copia. But…”

He cried a little harder. “No, please, no ‘but’. Anything but that…”

“Sister Evelyn’s still going to be your Prime Mover. And I don’t want to be your mistress and share you with other people. Not like that, anyway.”

He wiped a tear from his cheek and rubbed his nose with his glove, taking a sniff before he spoke again. “I never wanted her in the first place. And I don’t intend on going through the ritual with her. I didn’t to begin with, and I definitely don’t now. Please don’t walk away from me.” He pulled you into a tight embrace, holding onto you as if afraid you might slip away. In that moment, you both clung to the hope that love could conquer the challenges you faced, no matter how complicated they seemed.

You could feel a storm approaching as the weight of Copia’s remarks hung in the air. Even after his sincere admission and your mutual hug, an overwhelming feeling of doubt clouded your relationship. You could not deny the truth of Sister Evelyn’s existence in Copia’s life as he clung to you.

“I can’t promise everything will be okay, Copia,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the silence that followed. “I want to believe in us, but it’s hard when there’s someone else in the picture. And with Sister Imperator pushing for this, I don’t see how we can get passed this.”

Copia’s grip tightened, a mix of desperation and fear painted across his features. “I know I messed up, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, don’t leave me.”

Your heart ached at his plea, torn between the love you felt for him and the reality of the situation. “Copia, I need time. I need time to process everything and figure out what’s best for both of us.”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of certainty. “Time,” he repeated, his voice carrying the weight of the unknown.

You nodded, tears welling up in your own eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Copia. But I can’t be with you if it means sharing you with someone else. It’s just too much.”

A pained expression crossed Copia’s face, his emotions on full display. “What if… listen, the full moon and the ritual is in two days. Once the ritual is completed, nothing can change it. No Sister Imperator, no Sister Evelyn, no one. What if I performed it with you?”

Copia’s idea lingered in the air, an intriguing yet unsettling proposition. The weight of his words fell on the room, and you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of unease and want. The prospect of sharing such an intimate ritual with Copia sparked hope, but the history of grief and betrayal threw a shadow over the decision.

Your glance met his, looking for genuineness in his eyes. “The rite, Copia, is a sacred and binding ceremony. This isn’t something to take lightly. Are you sure that this is what you want? And can we honestly move on from what has happened?”

He nodded, a determined expression on his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. A life with you matters more to me than anything else.”

Despite your concerns, the honesty in Copia’s voice touched your heart. The thought of rewriting the story and starting again seemed appealing. However, the scars of the past warned of caution.“I want to believe in us, Copia,” you said, lowering your tone. “I’m scared. Is it possible for us to move passed everything that happened between us?”

Copia’s hand gently caressed your cheek. “I know it’s not going to be easy. It’s too late to undo the harm I caused you. But I’m willing to go to any length to get back what we had.”

His vulnerability mirrored yours, and for a brief time, you sensed a real yearning for redemption. The thought of standing at Copia’s side during the ceremony, rewriting the tale together, gave you a sense of hope. “One day, Copia. One day to think about it,” you said, your eyes locked with his. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be certain. No more secrets, no more pain.”

He nodded, understanding the weight of your words. “I’ll give you the time you need, ___.”

He kissed your hand and left the room, butterflies forming once more in his stomach. Copia couldn’t ignore the feelings of nervousness and optimism that swirled in his gut as he left your office. The weight of the coming ritual, the decision hanging in the balance, and the frailty of your connection all played out in his head like a symphony of doubts.

Copia returned to his office and slammed the door behind him, providing a brief respite from the turmoil outside. The room felt both familiar and foreign, reflecting his emotional rollercoaster ride. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself. His heart was warmed by the hope that lingered from your conversation. The thought of starting again and correcting the past with you by his side was a light in the shadows. Copia slumped on his desk, his thoughts racing with possibilities, worries, and a desire for a better future. For the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope. The notion of sharing the sacred ceremony with you held out the potential of a new beginning. His ambition was fueled by a real desire to repair what had been broken.

As the night of the ceremony approached, the mood in the Ministry became electrified with excitement. The corridors were alive with whispered talks, and the air was thick with the weight of approaching events. The faithful assembled, dressed in ceremonial attire, and made their way to the Basilica di Lilith for the long-awaited ritual between Copia and Sister Evelyn.

You could feel the tension in the air like a physical force among the wave of followers. After careful consideration and talks with Riley and Aisha, the choice to carry out the rite alongside Copia was made. While the uncertainty persisted, a calm resolve grew within you. This was your night, the first night of many where you would be beside the man you loved - provided all went according to plan, of course.

Copia’s Ghouls had split, and the one half had made their way to a secret, smaller chapel in the Papa’s quarters: the Cappella di Venus, named after another woman who had been demonised by the Catholic Church, based from mistranslations, as usual. Catholics mistaking Venus rising before the Sun, bringing light to the world before the Sun had woken and drowned Her out, they had taken this to be a metaphor for the Devil challenging God, and in turn destroying everything She had, just as they had done for countless women throughout time; Hypatia, Jezebel, Lilith, Eve, Delilah. The list went on.

The Cappella di Venus, located in the heart of the Papal Quarters, radiated a sense of intimacy and secret that contrasted dramatically with the grandiosity of the Basilica di Lilith. Despite its modest size, the chapel was opulent and splendorous, providing a more private sanctuary for the Upper Clergy’s private rites.

The chapel’s entryway was embellished with beautifully carved wooden doors containing occult symbols. When these doors swung wide, they revealed an area that glistened with an otherworldly brilliance. The chapel was bathed in a warm and intimate brilliance from soft lights emanating from exquisite candelabras carefully positioned along the walls.

The architecture of the church reflected a bygone era, with vaulted ceilings covered in brilliantly coloured murals depicting scenes of celestial beauty. Every surface was embellished with gold highlights and intricate filigree, catching and reflecting the dancing candlelight. The air was fragrant with incense, producing an unearthly atmosphere that seemed to transcend the terrestrial realm.

The chapel’s centrepiece was a magnificent altar made of polished marble veined with deep crimson and ivory tones. A tapestry portraying the Emeritus bloodline’s symbol hung behind the altar, a quiet homage to the sacred lineage that ruled the ministry.

A life-sized statue of Venus, the venerated figure of love and beauty, presided over the chapel’s focal point. The statue was meticulously carved from marble and showed Venus with a calm look, carrying symbols of love and grace. Candlelight threw subtle shadows on the statue, giving the impression of movement within the stone.

The chapel’s velvet-cushioned pews formed a semicircle around the altar, creating an intimate atmosphere for the limited few who had access to this secret sanctuary. The chapel’s walls were embellished with stained glass windows representing images of historical significance to the Church, and tales from Venus’ mythology, transforming the ambient light into a kaleidoscope of colours that danced across the polished surfaces.

As you and the Ghouls took your places in the dimly lit chapel, the excitement in the air was obvious. Aisha and Riley stood by your side, bringing a mix of comfort and shared concern. The flowing shadows formed by the flickering candlelight created an atmosphere imbued with both mystery and holiness.

The atmosphere in the chapel appeared to increase in tensity as the minutes passed. The gentle rustle of velvet as Aisha shifted alongside you, as well as the occasional exchanged looks with Riley, expressed the shared fear. You cast sidelong looks towards the entryway, the carved wooden doors closed, separating you from the imminent ritual.

The Ghouls lined the chapel with solemn looks, dressed in their ceremonial attire. Their veiled features betrayed no emotion, adding to the seriousness of the situation. It was a dramatic contrast to the turmoil you were experiencing.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Copia wouldn’t arrive on time, that circumstances beyond anyone’s control would derail the meticulously prepared arrangements. The weight of the impending rite pressed in on you, increasing the anxiety with each passing second.

Everyone’s attention was drawn to the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor outside the chapel. The oak doors creaked open gently, exposing Copia standing there in his scarlet cardinal robes, the remainder of his Ghouls following behind him. As you caught his gaze, a rush of relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of anxiety. His eyes were a mix of tenacity and vulnerability, expressing the turmoil of his emotions.

Copia entered the chapel with measured steps, the doors closing behind him with a soft thud. The Ghouls separated to make way for him as he approached. The mood shifted, the coming ritual’s heaviness settling over the chapel like a heavy shield.

He took your hands into his as Aisha took her spot between the two of you, and placed a kiss on the back of them. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, “I had to dodge a few Sibling latecomers.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” You said, a smile on your red lips.

Aisha sighed. “It won’t be long before Imperator figures out what’s going on, can we get started please?”

In secret, Aisha had taken a white candle and carved it on two sides, one with the symbol of Venus, the other with the symbol of Lucifer - together representing the freedom to love whomever one chooses. The candle was placed in a dish, similar in shape to a martini glass (but the bowl was rounder and the stem was a little shorter) and while you and Copia held it, Aisha lit the candle. “May the Father guide you on your future together,” Aisha said as the candle began to burn down, “and may the Lover bless your union in Her name.” The candle would continue burning after the ceremony had been completed, and once it had burned away, it was said that the remaining smoke would help to bless the couple, and banish negative spirits.

A special oil had been concocted the day before, too, this time by Riley. Using the same book that Aisha was reading from during the ceremony, Riley had crafted an oil known to enhance love and bring abundance, made from roses, patchouli and vanilla, as a symbolic gesture to boost passion, and create a magnetic energy that drew people together. After the candle had begun burning, Aisha took the condiment-sized bowl filled with the oil, and drew the Satanic Cross over yours and Copia’s forehead, right where your third eye would be. “May Lucifer protect you and your union from outside evil.”

Venus, personified in the statue that overlooking the event, cast an ethereal gaze upon it. The warm glimmer of candlelight reflected off the Goddess’s marble face, granting Her presence an unearthly atmosphere, while the light of the full moon bathed the chapel in the rainbow of colours, as if she was bearing witness alongside Venus as well as lending Her power to the ceremony.

You and Copia swapped rings as the rite neared its conclusion, a symbolic union that Satanism kept given its roots in ancient Roman weddings. The ring planned for Sister Evelyn was now on your finger, already blessed and ready for a life bound to an Emeritus.

As the rite came to a close, you and Copia kissed, confirming the tie formed in the sacred chamber of the Cappella di Venus. The bond felt profound, a joining of fates that resisted the tyranny of a false prophecy. The kiss embodied relief, an unconscious acknowledgment that, for that brief moment, the outside world and its difficulties had vanished.

You could feel a gentle presence lingering in the chapel after the rite, as if the ghosts of Venus, Lucifer, and Lilith Themselves were looking over the unhallowed site. The energy left behind was a harmonic blend of celestial elements, and the flickering candlelight seemed to dance with renewed life.

It was done - and no one was able to stop or break it.

Barely thirty minutes after the ritual had completed, chaos broke loose. The consequences of your secret ritual were sure to make an appearance that night, given the fact that Copia had jilted his initial Prime Mover at the altar, and ruined the ritual for another month, but that was before Sisters Imperator and Evelyn had discovered the ritual had already been completed with another woman. They both came charging into Copia’s home - now yours, too - unannounced, Sister Evelyn’s red dress flowing behind her like a hellish princess only to find you and Copia entangled in each other’s arms after enjoying one another’s bodies, the blessed ring nestled comfortably on your finger and an uncharacteristic, shit-eating grin on Copia’s face.

The air crackled with unspoken tension as Sister Imperator’s stern expression deepened.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sister Imperator’s voice cut through the room like a whip. “Copia, explain yourself.”

Copia remained where he was, uncaring who saw you wrapped in his arms. You were both covered by sheets, but even still he felt both exposed yet powerful. “Isn’t it obvious? I chose ___ as my Prime Mover. The ritual has been completed.”

Sister Evelyn’s eyes flickered with a mixture of fury and hurt. “You… you betrayed me, Copia?”

Copia’s grin faded slightly, almost guilty. “Betrayal implies there was trust to begin with. I never intended to go through that ritual with you, Eve, and you know that. I suppose your father will be pissed, though.”

“Of course, he wants the best for me.”

Copia flinched, a cockiness coming from somewhere he’d never used before. It was turning you on to see, if you were being honest with yourself. “Will you tell her, or do I have to? Not fair to keep her in the dark now, is it, Sister?”

Sister Evelyn’s expression shifted from hurt to simmering anger. Her eyes bore into Copia, a storm of conflicting emotions playing out on her face. The revelation of her father’s involvement added another layer of complexity to the unfolding drama.

“I will handle this,” Sister Imperator interjected, her tone firm and commanding. “Evelyn, leave us. I need to speak with Copia alone.”

“No,” Sister Evelyn demanded, “someone is going to tell me what’s going on before I lose my shit at all of you! I’ve been jilted, humiliated and betrayed and now I demand some fucking answers!”

Copia’s defiance wavered for a moment, but then he sighed. “The prophecy is a farce, Eve. It was all a huge lie to get me in power so she could do what she wanted with the Church and your father could get a bit of control.”

“Her dad?” You gasped from beside Copia, earning you a slight chuckle from him. “Oh shit, that explains it.”

While he spoke, he still held onto you, his fingers stroking up and down your bare back softly. “The three sixes in a prophecy is for the antichrist, not for you.”

Sister Evelyn’s anger intensified at the revelation, and she shot a venomous glare at Sister Imperator. “Is this true?” She demanded, her voice sharp and accusatory.

Sister Imperator, ever composed, met Sister Evelyn’s gaze without flinching. “The prophecy was a means to an end, Evelyn. The emergence of the antichrist is crucial for the Church’s future. Copia’s ascension was a necessary step.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened, her disbelief evident. “But I thought… I thought I was meant to be his Prime Mover.”

Copia’s grip on you tightened, a silent reassurance amidst the unfolding chaos. “You were a pawn in this, just like me. I never wanted the ‘Papa’ role, I’m certainly no antichrist, and I’m sorry your fate was tangled up in this so your father could gain some power. Go, be free. Enjoy a new life with fewer responsibilities.”

Sister Evelyn, caught between hurt and anger, took a step back. “I can’t believe I let myself be manipulated like this.” She looked directly at Sister Imperator. “Fuck you. For all of this!”

“Hey, Eve?” Copia said, his voice gentle but the same shit-eating grin appearing on it as before. “We’re looking for a new Cardinal to fill the role in the Upper Clergy - how about it? A bit unconventional but I think you could do well, no?”

Sister Evelyn smiled, eyes never leaving Sister Imperator’s. “I’ll take it.”

Sister Imperator’s nostrils flared, her displeasure evident. She turned back to Copia, angrier than ever. “This disobedience will not be tolerated. You will face the consequences.”

“How?” You said, finally joining in on the conversation to deliver the final blow. “Exposing him means exposing you, too. Would you really want to risk it, Sister?”

A tense silence filled the room as Sister Imperator assessed the situation, her steely gaze shifting between Copia, Sister Evelyn, and you. The balance of power teetered on the brink, and the impending clash of wills hung in the air like a storm about to break. She hated not having the upper hand, not being in control and dominating the underlings. She was, however, a smart woman, who knew when to cut her losses and concede. But if either of you thought this would end here, you’d be wrong. She’d be back with something else, some other way to exert her power and control. But for now she simply muttered, “This isn’t over!” And stormed out, like the world’s worst Scooby Doo villain.

Sister Evelyn, no… Cardinal Evelyn, now with a pep in her step bid the both of you goodbye with the promise of seeing Copia on Monday to make good on his word, leaving the both of you alone in your marital bed.

You climbed on top of Copia’s lap, the bedsheets falling from your body and exposing your nakedness to him in all your glory. “You know, that confidence was very hot of you, Cardinal.” You said, your voice teasing and suggestive.

Copia laughed. “Oh was it, now?”

“Mhmm.”

“How hot?”

“Let me show you.”

And with that, you leaned down and kissed him, a passionate kiss that had him growing hard beneath you again, refractory period now over and ready to take you one final time before you both slept.

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

Hello, everyone! Mel here.

I just wanted to thank everyone for your continued support since I started posting Kinktober last year, but also now with Lost in Translation. It really means the world to me that you not only read my fics, but also leave comments and share it around, so thank you so, so much! Truly, you don't know how much this means to me.

I also want to thank @zombiesnips-blog for her commission, for her saintly patience, and for trusting me with her idea. This was an incredibly fun piece to work on and I cannot wait for the rest of you to see the next fic we have planned, which will be coming soon!

This is just a quick reminder that commissions are open and I have multiple membership options open, so if you are so kind as to support what I do, then I would be most appreciative. If not, I still am deeply thankful for your time and readership!

Much love!

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[not-so-superheroine]

i led bible study at the psych institute i was in for the three months and i was blessed by the experience.

i was harassed for being "mormon" on an occassion by a few, but handled it well and kept the meeting on track. and being an open latter day saint kept some people away (i was informed by my 2nd roommate who was christian and a seminary student. she invited people to come at the sunday church service/stream bc she really enjoyed the bible study but was told by a client it was bc of the "mormon girl" leading it that they didn't go ). being an open lesbian probably played a role too.

but those whose hearts were open enough to come anyway said they appreciated the fellowship and support. we were usually a small group, but often quoted was Matthew 18:20 "For where there are two or three gathered in my name name, I am there among them."

often i was put in a position to teach by client request. bc many who came were new chrisitians or those who had attended church but never studied the Bible before, just listened to what their pastor said without studying the sacred text directly.

not what i expected to do but i did my best with the what i learned from my experience and my seminary classes and made sure to question after what their independent thoughts were on the scripture after reading it and after providing historical/cultural/societal context for the text.

i used the community of christ lessons/sermon helps to assist me. but made it more general so it would be more applicable to sola scriptura (bible only) christians or non latter day saints, reorganized or otherwise (no BoM or D&C).

i passed it on to my roommate to take it over. she is a kind, compassionate woman, so i hope more people come. she's well studied, devout, and also straight, nondenominational and sola scriptura so i hope more people are comfortable with her.

the conversations i had will stick with me for a long time. i learned a lot from other clients who came.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

what do you think of this tik tok post about Team green being jealous of team black?.

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFt7fLYu/

So this TikToker's thesis is basically that the characters on team green is angry at the characters on team black when they should be angry at "the system that upholds the status quo," and thus their rage is misplaced. Why isn't Alicent angry at the patriarchy rather than being mad at Rhaenyra for not toeing the "conservative" line?

It's actually a bit crazy making, as someone with more than a passing knowledge of history, to see takes like this make the rounds and get traction. There are multiple layers of silliness but I'm going to focus on the assertion that their rage is misplaced, that they should be raging against "the system" instead.

First, let's get one thing out of the way. Of course the system is the issue. If you put Rhaenyra and Alicent in the modern world, half of their problems would disappear. Inheritance, bastardy, fuck, in most modern countries the monarchy wouldn't exist at all. Of course we have systemic issues in our world too, and so they'd have a whole slew of other problems.

The problem with applying a systemic critique to the actions of characters in Westeros is that you have to be aware that the system exists before you can rail against it. We, the audience, can understand that the problem is a systemic one, but we can't expect Alicent or Rhaenyra to understand that much less to act upon a systemic understanding of their issues. We're talking about a psuedo-historical period in which people still believed in the divine right of kings. Alicent and Rhaenyra are BOTH conservative by any meaningful metric. There was no such thing as liberalism in Westeros, no progressive movement. Smashing the patriarchy is about 4-5 social movements down the line for a people who haven't even had a schism in their church yet much less a protestant reformation, a scientific revolution, or an enlightenment, all of which were important stepping stones to the development of the idea that governments are systems that are controlled and determined by human beings, rather than a set of privileges granted to an elite class by god/the gods. You can't be angry at a system when you're not even aware there is a system. So from the start this argument is based on a false premise and while I could go into the specifics of how Rhaenyra's actions shouldn't be celebrated as liberated or progressive because even SHE doesn't see them that way, the so-called "game of thrones historian" needs to pick up an actual history book first before we can have that conversation.

[alliluyevas]

Do you think they should make a Mormon pioneer American Girl?

Would I personally get a kick out of this? Yes. Do I actually think they should? Probably not.

First of all, pretty much all AG historical dolls have to navigate complex and difficult historical topics at least to some extent. Some have done it more successfully than others. For instance, Felicity was my favorite historical character as a child and I still like her as a character and enjoy her books, but they don't handle slavery well at all. I think creating a book series and a collection that talks about Mormon history in a way that is a) historically accurate and sensitive b) appeals to LDS families, who would likely be the primary audience and overwhelming majority of doll purchasers for this hypothetical character c) maybe even appeals to a broader market would be a really tall order.

Also, assuming that by "Mormon pioneer doll" you mean a character who comes to Utah in one of the first waves of migration in the mid-to-late 1840s or early 1850s, that is very close in era to Kirsten, whose stories begin in 1854, and who is also a frontier settler. There would likely be a lot of overlap between Kirsten's collection and this hypothetical doll's, as well as in the period details in the books. So this begs the question of how much this doll's inclusion would add to the overall AG historical characters canon. Of course, a major focus in Kirsten's books is her immigration story and her Swedish heritage (though, actually, you could write Utah Pioneer Doll as Scandinavian too given how much LDS conversion there was in that region during this period. That would create even more overlap with Kirsten's story, though.) By contrast, a major focus in Hypothetical Utah Pioneer Doll's story would likely be her religion, and this would be something that would be unique to her.

I wouldn't say that AG has shied away entirely from addressing religious faith and practice with their historical dolls. After all, for most of the classic six-book historical character series, the third book is centered around Christmas celebrations (for Rebecca, the focus is on Hanukkah instead and for Kaya her book series is structured differently than those of the other girls and I am not sure there's a holiday book at all.) In terms of the girls whose books I've reread most recently, Addy's church attendance is mentioned frequently in almost all her books and it's probably more thematically central than for most of the other Christian historical characters. Addy's denomination is also explicitly mentioned in the text (her family attends an African Methodist Episcopal church), while for many other characters it is more implicit. (For instance, Felicity is likely Anglican and Kirsten is almost certainly Lutheran, but neither is directly said in text to my knowledge.) It's been more than 15 years since I read Josefina's books, but I remember church attendance being mentioned more prominently in them as well. (Josefina is Catholic, though again I don't remember if this is explicitly stated the text of the stories.) If AG was to create a Mormon historical doll, her religion would have to be explicit and centralized in the text in a way that is very unusual for them.

But not completely unheard of, which brings me to another doll/storyline that is very relevant in this discussion: Rebecca. Rebecca was the first and, for a very long time, the only Jewish doll. The recently added 1990s twins are also Jewish, though it sounds like religion is comparatively deemphasized in their books, and they're much more secular. (This is a pattern with the more recent historical dolls, by which I mean both the ones created more recently and the ones whose stories are set in the more recent historical past.) I think Rebecca is the character for whom religion is the most prominent in her story (though, of course, because Judaism is an ethno-religion her stories address both her ethnic heritage and religious traditions in tandem, which makes it feel even more central.) She was also (again, until the twins were created) the only historical character who is a member of a religious minority in both a modern and historical sense. That is, in Rebecca's era Jewish Americans were a religious minority and they still are today. I think you could argue that as a Native American Kaya is sort of also a religious minority but I don't think that makes sense in the context of her time. For Catholic historical characters (Josefina, Cecile, and Marie-Grace), I think Catholics were a religious minority in the 19th century but given that it's currently the largest Christian denomination in the country that is no longer applicable. (Also, all three of those characters live in regions and eras where Catholics are the majority. I suppose if we count Best Friend dolls, the presumably-Catholic Irish Nellie is the only doll who would have lived in a context where Catholics were in fact a religious minority.)

Obviously, Mormons are Christians--or not so obviously, I suppose, given that a lot of other Christian denominations do not think they are. But they believe they are a Christian denomination, and I think that matters. Whereas obviously Jewish people are a religious minority in the sense that they are very much not Christians. But I do think Mormons were in the past and continue to be a religious minority (and the fact that they have historically troubled the boundaries of Christianity and been excluded from that by a lot of more mainstream Christians definitely contributes to that.) In the modern day, the statistics in terms of percentage of the American population are similar to Judaism, actually. There are slightly fewer Mormon Americans, about 1.5-2 percent of the population, whereas Jewish Americans are about 2-2.5 percent (though this includes people who identify as Jewish but not religiously observant.)

I feel like I'm rambling here, sorry. The point I was trying to make is that with Rebecca we do have an example of a historical doll who is a member of a (both historical and contemporary) religious minority and that minority is of relatively comparable size to Mormonism. Though I think in some ways a Jewish historical doll might be a more likely purchase for non-Jewish families than a Mormon historical doll would be for non-Mormons? I don't know if I can necessarily articulate why, though. Just a feeling. In terms of other differences I can't necessarily articulate--when Rebecca was released, having a historical character who was an Eastern European Jewish immigrant to New York City in the early 1900s felt like almost an obvious choice, as well as a necessary one. And if Rebecca hadn't been introduced, not having a Jewish historical doll would feel like a major oversight. On the contrary, if AG announced a Mormon historical doll I would be genuinely shocked. Like, knock me over with a feather shocked. I also don't feel like the lack of inclusion is a huge oversight in the way that not having a Jewish doll would be. (And, frankly, in the way the fact that they still don't have an Asian American historical doll is).

That being said, I definitely don't want to portray Mormonism as entirely inconsequential or peripheral to American history, as I don't believe it is. Mormonism is by far the largest religious tradition that originated in America and I think it overlays in really interesting ways with broader American historical issues like Westward expansion as well as issues around race, gender, religious freedom, and the boundaries of citizenship. I do think that a Mormon AG doll could potentially be very interesting. I also think it would be controversial and difficult to do well (by whatever standard "doing well" would be.)

[gemsofgreece]

TIL from a podcast featuring historian and Byzantine archaeologist Yannis Theoharis:

Athens was one of the most religiously conservative cities of the Byzantine Empire. It adhered to the ancient Greek religion for longer than most other areas. Contrary to popular belief, its eventual conversion to Christianity did not happen violently. Christianity was getting more and more ground amongst the believers progressively. Meanwhile, the ancient temples and shrines were progressively emptying but as long as there were believers they were functioning properly and had guards and went through restoration works and all, as stated by Neoplatonic philosopher Proklos (with the exception of nude sculptures which had been destroyed already by proto-Christians). The historian also claims the conversion of the temples to churches happened later than what was previously believed, around the 7th-9th centuries. As the vast majority of the population had eventually converted to Christianity, the temples were left abandoned. The empire ordered their conversion to churches so that funding their preservation could be justified. Furthermore, there wasn’t as much of violent banning of ancient schools as it was thought. Justinian did not ban the function of the Neoplatonic school in Athens but ceased the state funding unless the school accepted to add Christian theology to its curriculum. The Neoplatonic school refused but it was not banned. It kept functioning using its own private funds until this wasn’t enough and the school had to close. Evidence for this is that it is documented that the school functioned for several decades or more than a century (don’t remember exactly) after Justinian’s imperial command, which was previously viewed as an immediate or violent shutdown. Meanwhile, the Neoplatonic school in Alexandria (in Egypt) agreed to add Christian theology to its curriculum and it kept functioning undisturbed until the 7th century and the Arab conquest.

Also, he has more insight into the similarities observed between Eastern / Greek and even all Orthodoxy and the Ancient Greek religion, such as idol / icon worship, lesser deity / saint worship, virgin female deity / super saint worship, patron gods / saints etc He says there was an interesting cycle of Christianised Hellenism followed by Hellenized Christianity. Some of these elements of Christian Orthodoxy were emphasized more than in the early years of Proto-Christianity or even exaggerated by the Byzantine Greek Christians in order to attract the pagan Greeks and make them understand more easily the philosophy of the new religion and find common ground between them. It worked.

Lastly, he disputed the dated assumptions that the Visigoth king Alaric I was assisted by monks to destroy Athens during his invasion in 396. This was falsely concluded because in documents it was found that Alaric was accompanied by men clad in black. Theoharis says these were actually Thracian soldiers (Alaric indeed fared long in Thrace and the Thracians were by large mercenaries) and supports it is very unlikely based on historical evidence of the time that Athenian or Greek Christians would collaborate with a Visigoth invader to help him destroy historical areas of Athens, even if they were pagan.

These are the most important bits from memory, I am linking the podcast here, it is in Greek.